Masks
by nemain13
Summary: Mary and Marshall must attend a Halloween costume party, and a challenge is issued. Each must find a costume to fool the other, but neither can anticipate what's to come. This story is now complete.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: It's Halloween week, and I'm inspired. This is a fluffy bit of nothing for you. Pull up a pumpkin and enjoy.**

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Clothes make a statement. Costumes tell a story. ~Mason Cooley

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Mary's morning had gone to hell long before she arrived in the office. Jinx and Brandi had started her morning off squabbling over the last of the cereal and both had turned their petty wrath on her when she'd entered the kitchen, complaining stridently about her failure to get them provisions. She'd fled without any food whatsoever, and in her haste to get away from them, she had even had to forgo her morning coffee.

Traffic, once she'd managed to escape her family, had been a snarl of unmoving cars and irritated drivers trapped by a wreck that blocked most of the route Mary usually took to the office, and, as if all that weren't enough, Mary's Probe had begun to overheat radically, causing her to coax, curse, and pray it into her parking space, completely foiling her plans to stop by a drive-through coffee stand. By the time she'd made it to the elevator, she'd been far past a rolling boil herself.

The doors opened with their typical soft ding, and she fervently wished she could rip into the metal paneling and tear out the chime. _Maybe with my teeth, even. Yeah. Damn happy little bell. Deserves a vicious death._ She strode out, and the expression on her face and the set of her shoulders clearly said, "DANGER."

Mary's mood was not improved by Marshall's empty desk. Her partner, the only person who could possibly have soothed her and cheered her in the absence of coffee, was nowhere to be seen. "Where the fuck is he?" she snarled at Eleanor.

"And a bright, cheery, good morning to you, too," Eleanor said calmly without looking up from the papers she was processing.

"See, answers like that are like unto get you killed this morning. But since I'm such a charitable and almighty forgiving soul, I'll give you another chance to answer me. Where is Marshall?"

Eleanor batted not an eyelash as she firmly tapped her stapler, affixing a form to a casefile before closing it and stacking it in a pile to be replaced in the filing cabinet later. She folded her hands in front of her and then looked up at Mary with a placid smile. "Me? Why, I'm fine this morning. Thank you so much for inquiring."

_Dead. Going to kill her dead. Maybe with my teeth. Yeah. The teeth are definitely the popular option this morning. Lots of satisfaction to be had with the teeth...._

Mary growled under her breath and shuffled over to her desk, throwing her leather jacket over the back of her chair. She glared at the empty desk across from her own as though it had done her personal injury and booted up her computer.

Marshall came in a half hour later to find Mary typing with stiff, hard gestures as though she were finger jabbing the keyboard. He and Eleanor exchanged knowing glances, and Marshall shifted the cardboard carrier of coffees in his left hand before extracting two to leave on Eleanor's desk. He knew that she'd see to it that Stan's got to him. Each of them had their own morning job to do, after all...

He crossed the small distance to Mary's desk, and grinned to himself as she continued steadfastly to ignore him.

"I come bearing gifts," he crooned, and he set her coffee down on the desk squarely in front of her, careful to pull his hand back quickly. _Because I know that she is fully capable of biting the hand that feeds her._

For a moment, she maintained her assault on the computer. Then her hands wrapped around the paper sleeve of the coffee, and she cut her eyes up to him, narrowed. "You'd better have something a damn sight better than this on you if you're claiming that you're bearing gifts, slick." She took a long, slow swallow of the coffee, and Marshall wanted to breathe a sigh of relief. _Thank God. She's taken caffeine internally. Stage one of mood diffusing accomplished._

"Well," he drawled, "since you sweet-talked me," he thrust his hands into the pockets of his coat and pulled out a white waxed paper bakery bag. He opened the top and tilted it so she could see the contents.

Her eyes lit and the scowl that had been etched into her face dissipated. "Is that...oh you wonderful, wonderful man....is that really and truly..."

He shook the bag, his grin spreading. "Who's your partner? Who's your friend? Who's got your back for breakfast?"

"Don't push it, wiseass. Hand over the bearclaws and nobody will have to die this morning after all."

Marshall chuckled and gave her the sack of pastries. He perched on the corner of her desk and fished another bag out of his other pocket. Even though Mary was in the middle of devouring one of the sweet, sticky pastries, her eyes riveted on his bakery bag hungrily.

"Uh-uh. You got yours. Keep your avaricious little claws off." He pulled an apple fritter out of his bag and began to have his own midmorning sugar rush.

She sniffed the fresh apples and cinnamon in the large pastry, and eyed it lustfully. "We could always share."

He snorted. "Ha. I know that line. 'Share' with you is just code for, 'Mary gets it all.'"

She smiled and bit a large chunk of bearclaw. "That's right, mister. Just as the gods intended."

They ate in silence for a while, and hot coffee and good baking did a great deal to restore Mary's shattered mood.

"So other than being on a coffee run, which, by the way, probably saved countless innocent lives, where the hell were you this morning?" Mary finally asked, sweeping crumbs away from her desk and onto the floor. Marshall had returned to his own desk and was entering data and sipping his coffee.

"I had to go see one of mine early this morning about something," Marshall said a little evasively, and he kept his eyes glued to his own computer screen. Mary didn't press. If Marshall hadn't taken her and wasn't telling her now, it had been a private issue and was none of her business. She respected that. Even partners in their line of work didn't always tell each other everything.

He cut suddenly-amused blue eyes to hers, laugh lines crinkling the corners. "Why? Did you miss me? Pine and yearn in my absence?"

She snorted. "Like hell. I needed a backside to kick and yours wasn't handy like it was supposed to be for my booting pleasure."

He looked at her a moment and she had that odd sensation that she'd only ever gotten with him, that feeling that he was reading her somehow, that he could somehow see right through all her masks and pretenses to the reality behind them. "That crappy a morning, huh?"

She used her short thumbnails to incise random patterns on the cushioning cardboard of the insulating sleeve of the coffee cup. She felt the corner of her mouth turn up, but there was no humor in the movement. Both of them knew it. "Yeah, well... you know life at the Shannon household is just one big party all the time..." She did not look at him.

He nodded gently, and looked as though he was going to say something when Stan and Eleanor came out of Stan's office. Stan was beaming from ear to ear, and in his hand he held a large manilla envelope.

"I have something for you two," he said, and he withdrew two small black envelopes from the larger tan one, waved them in the air with a flourish before handing them to Mary and Marshall. "It's that time again, and we have, once again, been invited to join with ABQ PD in the Law Enforcement Halloween Masque."

Mary felt her mood darken to the color of the little letterpressed envelope. "Oh fucking hell, Stan. Tell me you're kidding. Please. Or shoot me. Either way."

He favored her with a small smile as he extended the envelope to her. "Nope. And yes, before you ask, your attendance is required."

Mary snatched the envelope from him with narrowed eyes. Marshall was grinning as he took his from Stan's hand and proceeded dig in his desk drawer for a letter opener.

"I wonder what the theme is this year," he said.

"I swear by all that's holy, if they're doing 'Partner Pair-Up' again this year, I will be in the hospital with a self-inflicted gunshot wound."

"Aw, Mare, come on. Don't shoot yourself over a costume party. Save it for something important, like the next time Jinx and Brandi try to get you to have a 'Spa Day.'" Marshall's smile was wide since he knew he was relatively safe across the room and behind the protective bulk of his own desk.

A feline smile crossed Mary's lips as she used her index finger to slit open her own invitation. "You're absolutely right, Marshall. Besides, if I need a hospital emergency as an out, I can always just shoot you instead...."

He stuck his tongue out and both of them slipped the small white card from their envelope at approximately the same time. As was so typical, their reactions were a study in opposites. Marshall's face lit up like a kid presented with a new toy. Mary groaned and leaned over to bang her head on her desk softly and repeatedly.

Every year, the Albuquerque Police Department hosted a large costume party for the area law enforcement. It was the pet project of the commissioner's wife. She also had a penchant for coming up with themes that called for specific types of costumes. This was Mary's personal idea of torment. In the past three years, she'd had to scrape together something that could pass for Wild West gear, medieval clothing, and last year, she and Marshall had been forced to dress in some kind of matching get up by the "Partner Pair-Up" theme the little black envelope had spit out.

Marshall in his typical fashion, had been bubbling over with suggestions as to what their costume could be, most of which she'd shot down with verbal violence, some of which she'd actually chased him around his living room for during their planning session while he cackled his crazy laughter.

"I will so NOT go as Princess Leia to your Luke Skywalker. Besides, as much as it pains me to say that I know this...didn't they turn out to be related in the end?"

Marshall, right before he had started running, had shot back at her, lascivious leer in place, "Yeah, but to see you in that gold metal bikini, I might be willing to break all sorts of cultural taboos...."

They'd wound up going as a pair of old-timey U.S. Marshals, long dusters, cowboy hats, and jeans. It was a recycling of pieces of their costumes from two years before and of things both of them already had around the house. Mary was satisfied with it, and she had thought Marshall had been rather pleased with it, too, especially since his costume had looked suspiciously like some of the family photos she'd seen at his house.

This year, though, nothing within her comfort zone was going to be possible. The little card bore her doom in neatly engraved letters. The costume theme for the masque this year was "Fantasy Surprise."

Mary raised her head. "What the hell does that even mean, 'Fantasy Surprise?' It sounds like the label on a cheap bottle of wine."

Marshall snorted, and Stan looked at them both. "It means," said Stan, "as it was explained to me by our hostess, that the costumes should be fantasy figures, fairies, elves, gods and goddesses, vampires, ghosts, things of the imagination. The surprise part of it comes from the fact that this year everybody without fail is to wear a mask that hides their identity." He didn't pause when Mary started to fuss. He had long experience in just speaking over her. "Apparently, at the end of the evening, there's going to be some kind of big unmasking. She picked it up reading about Italy, and now she's desperate to try it out here at her party."

"Well shit, Stan. Italy this ain't" She gestured lazily around her with a wave of the hand. "Hasn't anyone seen fit to mention that little nugget of truth to her?"

Stan's lips quirked briefly. "No, and you won't be the first to do so, either. You know we do this every year as a way to improve our rapport with the various branches, particularly ABQ PD. We step on enough toes that when we can do something like this to smooth things over, we do it."

"Yeah, but at what cost. I mean, Stan, elves and goddesses? Me? A fairy princess? Really?"

"Follow Marshall's lead. I'm sure he can throw a sheet over your head and stand you in a corner or something...." Stan laughed to himself at the image and walked away.

Marshall was laughing too a bit, and Mary turned her irritation on him. "And just what, pray tell, is so funny?"

"You. The thought of you with a bedsheet with eyeholes cut in it like a five-year-old draped over your head." Marshall chuckled and made a slow gesture with his arms as though he was the one with the sheet costume on. "Whoo...I am ghost Mary...."

"Watch out, Mr. Smartass, or you won't need a costume to attend this thing as a ghost."

Marshall smirked. "Oh no. I'm not going as any wimpy ghost. I already know just what my costume is going to be."

"And what tragically geeky science fiction hero are we going to be this Halloween?" She flashed him her most saccharine smile.

"Just for that, I don't think I'm going to tell you. You're going to have to figure it out on your own."

"Oh, my money is evenly split between Darth Vader, Spock, and that guy who became king in Lord of the Rings."

"His name is Aragorn and neither Spock nor he had a mask. Although, Aragorn did have a battle helm in the last one. I guess that could count if it were properly modified...."

Mary shook her head. "God, Marshall. We must get you a woman from somewhere. It's just so...so...sad....that you know these things...."

Marshall threw back his head and laughed. "Yeah, well...to each his own, right? But keep this in mind, partner of mine, as you're flailing around looking for a costume, sometimes it's good to know more than chokeholds and gun specs."

Mary looked at him with challenge firing her eyes. "You don't think I can put together a decent costume for this damn thing, do you? I know Stan doesn't, but you don't either, do you?"

Marshall leaned back in his chair and propped his feet up on his desk. "Mary, every year I've been here, I've had help outfit you for this, sometimes forcibly, sometimes even with Stan's help. So maybe you can understand how I'd have my doubts."

"It's just a Halloween costume, Marshall. How hard can it be?"

"Ah, but you see, it's not. It's a costume that meets the requirements of the theme AND in which you cannot be recognized until the unmasking. So it's kind of like a covert ops disguise with a twist."

"Which is why you like it so much."

"May be right," he said, evading her statement.

"Look. I'll bet you whatever you want to wager that I can do this every bit as well as you can, that I can come up with a disguise that you can't recognize me in."

Marshall shrugged, a deliberately indulgent smile on his face. "Sure, Mare. Whatever makes you happy. Look, think about what you want to wager and get back to me, okay? It's okay with me if you don't want to set the stakes too high."

Mary gritted her teeth. "God, such very dangerous, dangerous ground you're on. Absolute quicksand. Come on. Enough of this nonsense right now. We have witnesses to see today and other things to think about." She tossed the invitation carelessly on top of a pile of other papers on her desk, grabbed her leather jacket from the back of her chair, and headed for the elevator.

Marshall got ready to follow her, but as he was tidying up his workspace in preparation for leaving, his eyes followed her form as she stalked toward the elevators, and he then looked down at the invitation in his hands. For just a moment, he traced a fingertip over the engraving as if in thought, and the briefest of smiles ghosted across his lips. Then he tucked the invitation back into its black envelope and laid it in his "Current Projects" sorter box. The elevator dinged its arrival, and she was calling him to hurry him up. He grabbed his own coat and headed for the door, still turning a twisty little plot over in his head as he joined her.

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**More to come in the week ahead.... R&R. Suggestions welcome....**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Oh, I do so love you guys. Thanks for your enthusiasm for this little bit of holiday fun. My candy bucket is always out for you. Take as many pieces as you like. :P

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May Jack-o-lanterns burning bright  
Of soft and golden hue  
Pierce through the future's veil and show  
What fate now holds for you.  
~Author Unknown

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Mary pulled in Marshall's driveway at the end of that same day. The work itself had gone fairly well, but when she'd tried to go home after work intending to start trying to piece together a costume of some kind, Jinx was still in full drama mode, and she'd grabbed her go bag and beaten a hasty retreat. She still had a week on the costume, and she could not stand any more stupidity in her day.

After performing the requisite rituals to resurrect the Probe, she'd driven over to Marshall's. For a moment, she simply sat in the car and stared at his house. A warm glow came through the living room windows, and the house, while not large or lavish, was carefully maintained. All the trim was neatly painted, and on his porch she noticed with amusement was a very large jack-o'-lantern with a goofy smile.

_Looks like a home, like a place it would be nice to come back to at the end of the day. _She sighed and her fingers flexed on the worn wheel of her battered car. _I wonder what that's like... _Images of her own house filled with combative relatives and massive damage flickered through her head. She shook it as though to shut out that infuriating reality and got out of her car, grabbed her overnight bag, and headed up the short drive to the porch.

Marshall met her at the door and stood with his hand flat against the frame, blocking her way. "I wondered how long you were just going to sit out there. I was thinking of coming out and offering you a sleeping bag."

She pushed past him. "Yeah, yeah, yeah... Just pray you have beer and food."

Marshall grinned and followed her into the living room, eyes taking in her overnight bag and factoring it in to the situation automatically.

"Actually, I haven't eaten yet. I was about to call and order Thai takeout. Could you handle that, or would you rather have pizza?"

"Thai is fine with me."

They negotiated the ordering of food, Marshall left to go pick it up, and Mary made herself comfortable on the couch with the remote. She flipped through the channels looking for something to watch, and to her delight, there was a marathon of horror movies coming on starting with Friday the 13th in about thirty minutes. She decided to take a quick shower and change into some comfortable clothing before Marshall got back with the food.

She was just getting out the shower when Marshall got home. She opened her go bag and fished out clean underwear. She pulled out a clean cotton bra with a smirk and slipped it on. _Gotta wear this, too, because even though it's Halloween, I don't think I want to scare Marshall...or give him a treat...._

She reached back into her bag and rummaged around for her pajamas but couldn't find them. A sudden memory of her last trip away came to mind as well as the problems with her washing machine that Brandi had caused by trying to wash a dry-clean only sweater that had dissolved into a fluffy, motor-clogging cloud. In the delay in getting the machine repaired, Mary had apparently forgotten to replace a clean pair of pjs in her go bag.

"Damn," she muttered to herself. "Hey, Marshall," she called down the hall to the kitchen, "I hate to ask this...you have NO idea how much I hate to ask this...but....could I borrow something of yours to sleep in?"

She heard Marshall's steps come down the hall toward his room and pause just outside the door. "Um, you're naked, aren't you?"

She grinned wickedly, unable to resist yanking his chain. "No," she said sweetly, "not _naked_. I promise." She put her hand on her hip and waited for the inevitable.

He rounded the corner and took her in. Marshall couldn't help but look at her even though he knew he should look away. His eyes hungrily feasted on the firm curves revealed by her unclothed state, raked over the simple white cotton of her bra and panties, and he knew he was slowly turning red. She was beautiful, alluring....and so utterly untouchable. The last thought crashed down on him, jarring him back to reality. He had to fight for the bland expression he dropped over his face, had to hope the arch of his brow was helping to offset the blush he felt burning across his neck and cheeks.

"N-No, you're right, definitely not _quite_ naked. But you are definitely going to catch cold if we don't get you some clothing, maybe even develop hypothermia with that much of you exposed...." He had to swallow hard before he turned away to his chest-of-drawers, and Mary laughed at him internally.

_Okay, so that was not polite or kind, but it was funny as hell. Love to see him turn red like that, blush, blink, and stutter. It's kind of sweet and funny. Most guys would have taken me almost naked in their bedroom as an open invitation to pounce and grab, but Marshall just tries to cover me up and take care of me._

He was frantically digging in his pajama drawer, and without even looking at her, he tossed a grey t-shirt over his shoulder. She caught it before it could hit her in the face and drew it over her head. He turned from the drawers, and he had two pairs of pajamas in his hands.

"So..." His grin was teasing, and his blush, now that she was mostly covered, was fading. "Do you want the ones with the little ghosties or the ones with the dancing skeletons?"

She groaned. "Don't do this to me, Marshall. I'm your partner. Your friend. I have protected you, saved your life on more than one occasion."

He was totally unrepentant. "You just set me up to see you nearly naked, an image I'll be scarred for life with. I'd say turnabout is fair play, personally. Ghosties or Dancing Skeletons?" He extended the two pairs of flannel pajama bottoms to her and she saw the patterned fabric dangling from his hands.

She snatched the dark blue pair with white ghosts on them from him and drew them on, grumbling under her breath as she did so. Marshall laughed at her as she hopped around on one leg to get into them. She tied the bow at the waist, gave him a look full of venom and promise, and stalked into the living room to attack the food.

She had just finished setting all the takeout cartons up on the counter and was starting to root around in Marshall's cabinets for a plate when Marshall came out of his room with damp hair and his own pair of dancing skeleton pajamas on. She just eyed him up and down and shook her head.

"Only you, Marshall Mann, would have Halloween pajamas. And more than one damn pair of the things."

He just smiled smugly. "Better than walking around in what _you_ brought to wear tonight, isn't it?"

_Jackass. Be that way. Okay. My turn. _Mary's smile turned seductive, and she stepped close to him, ran a flirtatious fingertip around the collar band of his t-shirt. "I don't know, Marshall. You tell me. I got the impression at first that maybe you kind of...liked....my outfit." She watched his eyelids flutter closed, watched his Adam's apple bob, before he was able to come up with a snappy rejoinder.

"Oh, I did, I did. It was fantastic. In fact, I think that should be your Halloween costume for the Masque. You won't need anything to obscure your face because nobody will be looking any higher than your shoulders, I assure you." He leered down at her with a grin, but he was already leaning slightly away from her, and she knew he was waiting for a slap or a punch.

Instead, she just pushed him slightly, feeling oddly pleased by his comment and confused by that. _Wait. I don't WANT Marshall to comment on my breasts. What the hell? _ "Idiot," she said, and she wasn't sure whether or not she was addressing him or herself and her wayward thoughts. _I need to get a guy. It's been too long, and I must be overdue if I'm getting the warm fuzzies from pumpkins on Marshall's porch and mostly insincere and vulgar complements to my breasts from my partner....._

They served up the food and retired to the couch in time for the start of the film. They ate and watched the carnage begin at Camp Crystal Lake.

"I just can't believe how fucking stupid some of these people in these movies are. Okay. Like her. Why the hell did she go in there if she heard a weird noise? And why would she go in with nothing to defend herself? Isn't she out in the middle of the freakin' woods? I mean it could be an animal, right? She so lost like about 100 Monster Points there."

Marshall looked at her with a laugh. "She what now?"

"Monster Points. Oh come on. Surely you and your friends sat around and did Monster Points when you watched scary movies in high school or college?"

Marshall shook his head. "Actually, I've never even heard of this."

Mary looked at him with disgust. "Jesus, Marshall, all that crap you read, watch, and learn, and you let the true refinements of Western Civilization fall right through the cracks.... Okay, it goes like this. As you watch the film, you can give or take away Monster Points for acts of stupidity or bravery. For example, look at that girl right there. Look at her shoes. Every woman in any horror movie ever made who shows up in spike heels starts out at minus three hundred. She's practically dead before she even speaks. The same rule applies to all teenage couples making out in cars, graveyards, haunted buildings of any type, and/or summer camps set deep in the woods. Oh, and to groups who decide to break into or rent places known to be haunted for parties, orgies, or paranormal research."

Marshall was laughing his silly little laugh, clearly enjoying this game. "Okay, I think I've got it. So these two who are sneaking off to...shall we say... have some quality time together away from the group....they're at minus 300?"

"Oh yeah, at least. And look at how he's kissing her and groping her like she's some kind of blowup doll. God, he sucks at that, too. I'm taking off another fifty points for being lame screw, too. I think she'd agree."

"Harsh. Very harsh. So, can you actually earn any Monster Points?"

"Oh yeah. If someone actually runs away from the killer successfully, we award points. If they hit the monster with something, we award points. More points are given for style, choice of weapon, and damage done. If you actually manage to kill the monster, you win."

Marshall was intently watching the screen. "So this girl with the rake, I think I'll give her 100 Monster Points. I think the rake is an interesting choice, and...whoo...damn...look at her go! Maybe 200? Is that too much?"

Mary tilted her head to the side and studied the heroine who was currently beating Jason with a metal garden rake. "No," she said thoughtfully. "I'd say that's about 200 points worth of damage. I bet she loses it in a minute though. Watch her fall down or something stupid like that. They always fall down...."

She and Marshall continued to watch the film and critique the action until the end credits rolled. They wound up laughing at several very inappropriate moments of gore and shouting out "No Points for You!!!" and "Oh, you SO lost, buddy!" before collapsing on each other. As the movie channel began to show the opening credits for the sequel, Mary was leaning companionably against Marshall's shoulder.

She looked up at him, smiling and happy. She realized that despite the crap her day had been, thanks to him, it was turning out pretty well. She always had so much fun with Marshall. He never asked her to be anyone she wasn't. _It's strange, isn't it? I'm happier on this couch in these silly-ass pajamas leaning on his shoulder screaming at a slasher film than I have been under the last five guys I've slept with. Why is that? _She studied his profile in the bluish illumination from the TV. He turned his head and met her eyes, smiling down at her curiously.

She met his smile, and looked for something to change the paths her mind was walking down. "Why do you think horror films are so popular anyway?"

"Catharsis." Marshall said promptly.

"What? What the hell?"

"The purging of emotions from the human soul. One of the true purposes of art according to Aristotle, especially when it comes to drama. Horror movies allow us to release a whole range of negative emotions that we don't get to tap into any other way, really. Fight or flight, fear for our lives, the relief of survival, grief over the fallen, there's a whole psychology behind them."

He gazed at her calmly. She continued to stare at him as if he'd suddenly grown another head. _I should be used to this by now, but it keeps taking me by surprise. How much does he fucking __know__?_

Marshall's lips quirked up, and he continued, "Of course, none of this is the real reason they keep getting made, you know."

Mary sensed an impending punchline, but she dutifully took the bait. "Do tell."

He leaned in close to her and whispered conspiratorially, "The real reason they keep making horror movies is to help teenage guys get to first base with teenage girls."

Mary threw back her head and laughed. "Oh God, Marshall. You are just too much. And am I to take it from this that you know about this application from experience?"

He grinned, biting his bottom lip. "I am not one to kiss and tell. But yes. Lots. Many, many girls."

She shoved him hard. "You did not! I cannot see you as the horror movie Romeo."

He shrugged and made an elaborate gesture with his hands. "Ah, Mare, how little you know about my romantic conquests! The tales those theater seats could tell!"

Her eyes narrowed. For some reason, even the thought of a teenaged Marshall innocently holding hands with and kissing some fresh young thing started the demon dogs barking in the back of her mind. "Mmm...A trail of broken hearts where ever you go, hmmm?"

"Yup. Completely irresistible. One hundred percent. Got the kiss every time. Frequently more than that." His smile was smug and that arrogant brow was climbing.

"Prove it."

"W—w-what?" He blinked at her in the dim light of Friday the 13th Part Two.

"Use your fabled prowess on me. I'm a pretty good judge of what is and is not good in that department if you remember."

Marshall just looked at her. He did indeed remember.... "Mare...."

"Or are you afraid that your perfect record falls tonight?" She flashed her teeth in her best irritating smile, and he studied her a moment more, hesitating, measuring, and then she saw a slow smile of his own appear.

"Alright, but remember you were warned. We're just playing, so remember if you get your heart broken, it's nobody's fault but your own."

"So noted. Seduce me, idiot."

He giggled and she punched him. "Look. Get serious, or I've already won."

"Okay, okay. This is just...okay...okay....." He ran one hand through his hair, ruffling it. "Look. Not this movie, okay? Let me pick another one." He took the remote control and looked through the channels until he found a showing of the 1963 version of The Haunting on a classic movie channel. "Yeah. This one works. Have you seen it?"

Mary tilted her head consideringly. "No...I don't think so."

Marshall nodded. "Perfect. You'll love it. It's just about the scariest movie I've ever seen."

"What's it about?"

"A really, really, really messed up house. They call it a house that was born bad. It's based on a novel by Shirley Jackson."

Mary turned her attention back to the screen in interest, but in a minute or two she looked at Marshall again. "So when are you going to start making with the seduction? I am going to want to sleep sometime tonight."

He looked away from the TV a moment with a mildly irritated expression. "Jeez, Mary, shall I just throw you down on the couch now and ravage you? After that, could I possibly watch this movie?"

She actually felt a hint of embarrassment prick at her, she who was never embarrassed by anything, and she muttered, "Sorry."

He muttered back, "S'okay. Sorry, too," and he bumped her shoulder with his. She bumped his back in their typical manner, and he reached for her hand, loosely twining his fingers with hers.

For a long time, they sat there watching the tension on the screen escalate as poor Eleanor began to be drawn more and more deeply into the evil of Hill House. Mary realized that she was leaning against Marshall's shoulder, and that his thumb was gently rubbing slow circles in the palm of her hand. It felt good. She looked up at him suspiciously, but he was totally intent on the movie. She was cold, and he was warm. He smelled like soap.

"Budge up. I'm cold."

Marshall absentmindedly put his arm around her and pulled his eyes away from the screen long enough to say, "Grab that blanket at the end of the couch if you're really cold, and drape it over you. Don't be uncomfortable."

With his arm casually draped around her shoulders, she felt much warmer. She turned slightly into his body heat, and rested her head on his shoulder. "No, I'm fine like this." The movie continued, and they watched as the wallpaper came to life and a mysterious noise permeated the old house.

"God, Marshall, you're right. This is one of the creepiest films I've ever seen, and there are practically no visual effects at all. It's all noise and lighting."

He looked down at her, and she was struck suddenly by how close he was to her, by the fact that his mouth was only a few inches from hers. He smiled, his eyes wrinkling with enjoyment. "I know. That's what makes this so good. The modern horror movies can't stand up to it. The scariest things in life are the ones you _can't_ see. The director of this movie knew that." He looked at her another moment, dropped his gaze down to her lips briefly, brought his eyes back to hers for seconds that seemed to lengthen beyond their allowable span, and then returned his gaze to the television. He shifted slightly and as he did so, he pulled her a little tighter against him.

Mary rested her head on his shoulder again. _Mmm. Not bad. Not bad so far, Marshall. Very subtle. Very understated. Very you. You almost had me fooled at the beginning, but that last little bit, well...sorry, but I'm a little more experienced than your average high school girl...probably.... I can't believe you were like this in high school, though. You did just miss a perfectly good opening, but we'll give it time. I know how you like to plot and plan._

Never one to rest and let others do the work for her, Mary's mind turned up a devilish plot of its own. _Ah, Marshall, I think since we're playing high school movie date, I might trot out a couple of my old never-fail moves, too. Let's see what you think of them.... _As she shifted, Mary allowed her hand to come up and rest against his chest, right over his heart. She felt it kick, thud with an extra beat as her hand continued to sit there, and she smiled a slow smile. She made a soft little sighing sound near his ear, making sure that her breath washed over his neck and ear. Under her hand, his heartbeat sped up.

His hand on her arm began to stroke gently up and down, soft, slow caresses. Up, pause. Down, pause. Up, down, pause. Again she allowed herself to make a little noise of contentment, and she took her hand from his chest and rested it on his knee. He shifted on the couch a little, and she laughed privately to herself. He looked down at her, and she met his gaze, smiled her most innocent smile, which, granted, probably wasn't all that innocent. His eyes again slipped down to rest on her mouth, longer this time, and his head tilted, angled, just a little, then he looked back into her eyes again before turning back to the screen.

Mary realized she was holding her breath and that her hand on his leg was gripping instead of resting. _Damn. Fake out. Builds anticipation. Good move. Now all I can think about is that almost kiss. Good, good move. But I'm not a high school senior, Marshall. And you can't get away with that, partner.... _

She pushed away from him briefly and he looked at her in surprise. She smiled apologetically, and reached down the couch for the blanket at the end. She spread it out and draped it over her, snuggling back into him so that her breasts pressed into his side as she did so. A little off balance, she let her arm reach around him to hold him, wiggling a little. Her other hand returned to his knee and began a slow walk up his thigh. She didn't miss his sharp intake of breath. He caught her hand about halfway up in his own, relacing the fingers together with his own.

_Oh the victory will belong to me..._ she sang mentally_. I am undefeated..._

Marshall looked down at her and again, the sheer blue intensity of his eyes was breathtaking. He leaned forward, and Mary found herself watching his mouth as he came closer and closer. The end credits for the movie were rolling. She realized she'd missed the last twenty minutes of the film with her maneuvering. _Oh well, I'll have to rent that one later on. I want to know what happens. _Her attention immediately snapped back to Marshall as he leaned down to her. …_what happens...._

He didn't kiss her though. Instead, he whispered in her ear, "You are the most distracting person I've ever watched any movie with." He pulled back just far enough to look her in the eyes again. She didn't miss that his were hot, blue, and full of promises. _And why do I like it so much suddenly? Isn't this just a game? Isn't this just...Marshall? _Her gaze became riveted on his mouth, and her thoughts flew away like bird released from a cage.

She scrambled after the scattered pieces because he seemed to be waiting on a response. _Come on, Mary, don't fall apart now. _"Yeah, well, you know I aim to please." _That's the best you can do? That's it?_

Marshall took it, though, and ran with it. "Do you now?" he said, his voice low, rough, a tone she'd heard from many men before but never heard from him. It was somehow different coming from him. He brought his hand up to cup her face gently, his thumb tracing over her bottom lip slowly. She felt a corresponding shiver slip its way up her spine.

_Was this Marshall? Was this her geekish partner, the one who knew all things Star Trek and had a tiny Yoda PEZ dispenser on his desk at work? My God, was she really being reduced to a puddle of warm goo by a man who owned a lava lamp and who was currently wearing flannel pajamas with dancing skeletons on them?_

Never removing his eyes from hers, he lowered his head slowly, giving her ample time to hesitate, to protest, to run away. It was like she was transfixed, however, ensorcelled by the hot blue magic and the unexpected change in her partner, and she had lost all the will to move. Curiosity had replaced common sense, and she realized suddenly that she wanted his lips on hers, wanted to know the taste of him more than she wanted to draw her next breath.

When his lips touched hers, the kiss was gentle, soft, sweet. Mary was very still as his lips brushed across hers once, twice, a third time delicately, as if the action were somehow precious. She felt something inside her unfurl and stretch itself, something that had been tightly closed for a long time, and she opened her lips and slid her hands up to rest them on Marshall's shoulders, one hand sliding higher into his hair.

He took the opening of her mouth as an invitation to deepen the kiss, and he wrapped his arms around her, shifting her into his embrace as his mouth began to explore hers in earnest. _My God. Who is this man? This can't be my Marshall. This can't be the man I've been working across from, fighting beside and arguing with, sleeping next to in ratty hotel rooms for three years. How can I not have known about this? If I had known about this.... _Mary made a small noise of pleasure, and heard an answering noise from somewhere deep in the back of Marshall's throat. One of his hands slid up her to tangle itself in her hair, and she felt the nature of the kiss beginning to change, the tang of hunger beginning to spice the sweetness.

Kiss and kiss and kiss, kiss and kiss again, there was no sating it. Each was subtly different, subtly somehow more than the last. Mary suddenly realized that she was lying half under Marshall on the couch, and that her hands were sliding under his t-shirt to explore the firm warm muscles of his back. She felt his hands beginning to explore boldly under her own nighshirt, and her mind suddenly clicked back into place just as his large hand cupped her breast over the soft white cotton bra. Her eyes wanted to roll back into her head with the pleasure of his touch, but at the same time, the sense of it being Marshall who was touching her and the implications and complications of it were suddenly too much for her. She put her hands on his shoulders and she pushed gently_. _

_Whoa, Nelly. Time to stop this right now before we have an awkward morning scene to look forward to. I need him in my life too much for that. And as good as he is at this (Damn-NATION, where did he learn to kiss like that?!?), I am just not ready for this..._

Marshall drew away the instant he felt the pressure on his shoulders. He sat up on the couch away from her, and she noted with some strange sense of satisfaction that he was breathing as if he'd run a fast half-mile. She sat up, too, and he held his hand out to her. She immediately took it, and they swayed toward each other again, and she was kissing him, sweet, gentle, lovely, once more, that knife edge of hunger present but controlled, and then she pushed back from it again. She kept her hand in the middle of his chest and for a minute, the two of them sat just like that, panting and trembling slightly.

She raised her head to look at him. He met her gaze steadily. She searched for something to say, anything that would break the stress of the moment. _I can't handle this. I can't talk about what was under those kisses. I just can't...._

Marshall's eyes flickered over her face, taking in everything he saw there, and he raised her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to the palm before lacing his fingers through hers. Then he sighed. "Okay. Say it."

"Say what?" Mary said suspiciously.

"Say Marshall is still the undefeated champion of the horror movie seduction scene."

She snorted, relieved beyond all measure at this shift into silliness, this comfortable banter that hid the realities that had arisen between them. "Like hell. _I_ seduced _you_, mister. I seduced the silly pajamas right off you. If it had been up to you, we'd still be holding hand like characters in a damn Jane Austen novel."

He arched his brow. "_You_ have read a Jane Austen novel?"

She grumbled and muttered. "Everybody had to read Pride and Prejudice at some point, right?" There was no point in admitting that she'd liked the book, had cheered when Lizzy Bennett had told Lady Catherine to go to hell....

Marshall was grinning. "Riiight...."

"Look. Why don't we call it a draw?"

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, Ms. Shannon."

"You're just begging for me to kick your ass, Marshall."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Like I don't hear this a hundred times a day...."

The comfortable equilibrium was restored, and soon after, they got ready to go to bed. Mary was soon alone on the pullout bed and Marshall was in his own room. It would be a very long time before either of them got to sleep at all, though, and when the did finally doze off, very persistent dreams of a similar nature came to both Marshals.

* * *

**I have not abandoned the costume party idea. It will go forward. I just needed to do some "Hey, Mary, look over there! It's Marshall, and he's neat and you should really like him!" work. Mary will be scheming over her costume in the coming chapter or so and you'll find out some stuff about Marshall as well. This one won't run long folks. If you have costume suggestions, I'd love to hear 'em!**

**Oh, the list of things in this that are not mine: Friday the 13th and Jason; The Haunting; Yoda, PEZ, Mary and Marshall, and Thailand. From the last one because I got carried away and it was late and I forgot: Star Wars, Star Trek, Lord of the Rings, Spock, and Aragorn. Please, please, don't sue me. If I forgot to list something else owned by a multinational conglomerate/ bajillionare franchise, I do apologize.**

**R&R, folks.**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I've been ultrabusy at work this week so I haven't been able to update as I've wanted to do. This one might run longer than the holiday, folks. Oops. Sorry. I intended to finish by Halloween, but we may not do so. Sigh. Stick with me. There will be a couple of updates today, and I might possibly get them done by the end of the Witching Hour tonight.....

* * *

**

One need not be a chamber to be haunted;  
One need not be a house;  
The brain has corridors surpassing  
Material place.  
~Emily Dickinson

* * *

She'd dreamed of Marshall all night long, and in those dreams, he'd done much more than get to first base. _More like knocked the damn thing clean out of the park, then stepped back up to the plate for another swing. _When the alarm clock woke Mary, she'd been hugging the spare pillow and thinking very seriously about going down the hall to Marshall's room and pouncing on him to see if the reality could in any way match up to the fantasies she'd just been pulled from. _Because, damn it, I am all keyed up now, and it's going to be a very, very long day...._ She tried to imagine Marshall's face if she kicked open his bedroom door and satisfied this sudden unexpected longing for his body. _Either he'd be ridiculously happy or really alarmed; it's too early in the morning to figure out which. And while I might find either one of those fun, he might not. _She groaned and dragged herself down the hall to the bathroom and into a cold shower.

---

Once Marshall had finally told Mary goodnight, gone to his room and closed the door, he simply leaned back against it with his eyes shut, one hand coming up to cover his face. Despite the solid wood of the door, his sensitive hearing could still make out the little sounds of Mary moving around, getting ready to go to bed. He could discern the tiny squeaks of the pull-out couch's bedsprings as she tossed and turned, beating pillows into submission in her nightly ritual before falling asleep. Finally there was silence. He continued to stand stock-still in his position against the door for another moment, and then he walked to his bed and sat down.

He stared over at the wall of bookshelves across from his bed without really seeing any of the titles or familiar and beloved objects housed there. His mind was twisting through the unexpected turn the events of the night had taken as he tried to understand what had just happened to him, to Mary, to them together in the living symbiosis that was so vital to them both.

Part of him was dancing, absolutely funky-chicken, moonwalk, electric-slide dancing. That part of him had been waiting, mostly patiently, and in absolute silence since he had been shot to kiss Mary again. _And there was no duress this time. Neither of us was bleeding; nobody had a gun to either of us. That is always good. And as for the actual kissing...._ Words failed him. He, Marshall, the man of so many words, so many facts, so many descriptions, had no words for the way he'd felt when she'd opened her mouth that little bit, and he'd realized that somehow they'd passed from playing a game into something unexpected, something filled with infinitely more risk and reward. He had no words, no way to translate what had happened to his heart, his head, his body when he'd put his arms around her, his mouth on hers, and he'd heard that little sound come from her. And when he'd slipped his hand under that shirt that was his own against skin like sun-warmed silk, all he could think of as his hand had closed over the cotton-covered mound of her breast was, "It's Mary, it's Mary, it's Mary...." a chant, a litany, a prayer.

Not all of him was in ecstasy, though. Another part of him was doing its very best to throttle the dancing fool inside him. _Because she pushed you away, didn't she? And you saw that hot fear in her eyes, didn't you?_ He'd known instantly that it was coming, had known she was going to do it even before her hand had come up to push him back. He'd felt the jolt go through her the moment when she started remembering who she was with, when all her fears jumped back to the forefront, and the pleading confusion in her eyes had shredded him.

_Because it was so good. And we felt so right. That was more right that any other kiss I've ever had in my whole life. _On some level, he wanted to go back down the hall and sweep her up in his arms like Rhett Butler in Gone with the Wind and overcome all her fears with kisses and caresses. _But this isn't Hollywood, and everybody knows how well that story turned out, anyway. Besides, Mary would just kick my ass if I tried to sweep her up anywhere. She's not a sweep-up and carry-off sort of woman, actually. _Marshall tried to picture Mary in a hoop skirt and the image brought a much needed moment of amusement to him.

_I could never do that to her in any case. She's not ready to see it yet. So, tomorrow, it will be back to the old routine. _He sighed and glanced over to the closet where his Halloween costume was hiding in a box on a shelf. _God, I do get so tired of these masks sometimes. I really wish they were only something I had to wear once a year._

_---_

_Stop staring at his damn mouth. Pay attention to the words coming out of it. Jesus, Mary! You're acting like a horny sixteen-year old! _Mary snapped her gaze away from Marshall's lips up to his eyes. "What did you say, now?" She rubbed at the back of her neck in a distracted manner. She'd been having this problem all morning. She was abnormally aware of him, of the clean scent of his aftershave in the car as she rode to work with him, of the timbre of his voice, of the way he tilted his head down to look at her and smiled, of the warmth of his arm against hers through the sleeves of their jackets as they rode up the elevator together. Now they were in the conference room together talking over the day's assignments, and she kept losing her train of thought.

Marshall smirked, leaned over and waved his hand in front of her eyes. "Earth to Mary Shannon, calling Mary Shannon. You stayed up waaay too late last night, young lady. I think your babysitter should have put you to bed earlier." His tone was smug.

Mary smirked right back provocatively. "Yeah well, you see, I had this date with this really lame guy who wanted to make out, and he wouldn't get out so I could get to bed, so I humored him as long as I could stand it...."

"Ha!" scoffed Marshall. "That's not what I heard at all! I heard you jumped the poor guy and then he practically had to claw his way free and run like hell to get away from you."

"Oh yeah? Well, I didn't hear any complaints about the kissing from where I was, buddy."

Marshall opened his mouth to reply, but Stan walked in with a sheaf of papers, so they had to satisfy themselves with glaring at each other with confusion and irritation.

_Was I really too forward? Did I really push him to do something he didn't want to do? Ohshitohshitohshit...._ Mary's thoughts spiraled downwards, and she doodled little flaming skulls with kissing lips on the edges of her notepad as she began to see every event from the previous night in a different light, see herself as an aggressor. _Fucking hell, I wish I'd just stayed home with Jinx and Brandi. At least that way, I would have known where the landmines were...._

Marshall, meanwhile, was in a funk of his own. He always worried about being compared to Mary's many, many men. While he'd never had any complaints from the women he dated, knew that most of them in fact had enjoyed themselves tremendously based on their responses and their comments, he had always secretly feared that with Mary he would somehow not measure up. _Well, hell. So she was just being polite, huh? Pity kisses. Wonderful. Nothing like that to take the magic right out of a moment. Great. Excuse me, Stan. Can I go outside on the balcony a minute? Yeah? I need to shoot myself through the head now. Thanks._

Stan noticed that the mood which had been bright and cheerful when his two Marshals had arrived had deteriorated with even more celerity than usual. With his usual wisdom, he chose not to comment. He had learned long ago with this pair that these storms blew up for reasons that he really, truly didn't need to know or even want to know about. Frequently, knowing about the reasons for some of them would cause him, Mary, or Marshall or a member of their immediate families to wind up in federal prison. Therefore, Stan delivered his information, made a minute of small talk, and got the hell out. He even went so far as to summon Eleanor into the safety of his office until he saw Marshall and Mary enter the elevator and the doors slide shut to enclose them. Really, you couldn't be too careful, sometimes.

The rest of the day was a growling, sulking, passively or actively aggressive and hostile mess. Snide remarks, deadly and barbed, were flung. Lines in the sand were drawn and recklessly crossed. Tempers flared. As Mary and Marshall visited the witnesses on their list for the day, each breathed a sigh of relief when the two fractious Marshals loaded up in the Tahoe and pulled away. Even Benedicio, the 28-year old hit man, killer of five and tool of torture and persuasion who had an entire syndicate looking for him, and his girlfriend Maria-Teresa who'd chosen to come into the program with him rather than face life without him (and possibly be tortured to death as a tool to get him or a source of information), had embraced when Mary and Marshall had left and said, "Dios mio, what the fuck is WRONG with those two?"

Mary had been out of the Tahoe in a heartbeat and heading to reclaim her car from Marshall's house once they arrived, but not before she delivered one final parting shot. "Well, Marshall, I'd love to tell you that it's all been real fun, but I can't. I mean, I guess it's been real, but fun, well, fun it ain't."

Marshall was just as angry as she, just as hurt and irritated by the day of doubts and hostility, and even though he usually went out of his way to avoid ruffling her feathers, he was tired and his emotions were on edge. "Yeah. Fine. Whatever. Take your cliches home, why don't you? Brandi and Jinx will probably find that one fresh and/or amusing. I'll see you tomorrow."

She stared after him while he stalked up the three steps to his porch and disappeared inside. He did not look back once, not even to see if the Probe cranked. Mary felt the tiny little fingers of hurt that had been wiggling under the anger all day expand and grow. _He always waits until I leave, always checks to make sure this damn car will crank. He always stands right there on that porch leaning against the post and waves to me.... _ For some reason, she felt her eyes well up, and that made her even angrier. She wrenched the keys in the ignition and, of course, heard nothing.

She slammed her hand against the hard plastic of the steering wheel again and again, relieving some of the pent-up stress and tension with the futile motion. "Motherfucker!" she screamed at the car. "I should have known! And why the fuck not! Everything else to day has gone straight to hell..." She leaned down on the steering wheel and folded her arms across it.

_I am not going to cry. I am not going to sit outside Marshall Mann's house and cry because my stupid damn car won't crank and because he didn't want to kiss me last night and he thinks I'm pushy. I am not going to cry because my best friend is mad at me and we fought all day long and he went in the house and left me out here with this piece of shit and he didn't even turn around. I am not going to cry. I am not going to cry. I am not going to.... dammit...._

The tears were leaking out of her eyes, and she raised her head to swipe at them in miserable fury. When she did, she saw Marshall rounding the hood of the car. His eyes caught hers, and she knew he saw the tears.

_God, there is no justice in this world. None. NONE. _

He opened the door of the car, and she looked up at him and began with all the anger she could force, "What? It won't fucking crank. I am going to be out of here the minute I can get it to start...." and he reached down and pulled her out of the car and up into his arms. It was a hug, warm and comforting, the hug of her friend and partner, and she felt it restoring something vital inside her all the way down to her toes. She wrapped her arms around him and squeezed back, pressing her face into his shoulder a moment, indulging. Then she shoved him away. He allowed it.

"Just come in the house. I already ordered pizza. We can eat, and then I'll take you home. That thing isn't going anywhere tonight." _And we need to talk. I can't take another day like today. Not ever._

"Since you're offering me food and since I'm stranded, I accept." _Because I need to talk to you. I don't know how to say what I want to say, but I have to know if what happened last night wasn't okay with you, if I went too far like I always do, if I've messed things with us up for real this time. _

They walked back toward his house silently, each one lost in trying to figure out how to have the conversation both of them felt needed to happen but neither one of them really knew how to begin.

* * *

**More on the way momentarily. R&R if you like. **


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Another chapter for you. Some citrusy treats are in the bucket this time for those of you who have a ...craving....

* * *

**

On Hallowe'en the thing  
you must do  
Is pretend that nothing  
can frighten you  
An' if somethin' scares you  
and you want to run  
Jus' let on like  
it's Hallowe'en fun.  
- - - from an Early Nineteenth Century Halloween Postcard

* * *

The entire meal consisted of awkward conversation and even more excruciating pauses. Each of them had the sense that "a big conversation" was in the offing, but neither of them was able to bring themselves to actually address the huge "white elephant" in the room. Frustration was growing again. They were sitting in the living room. Mary didn't miss that Marshall had very carefully taken a chair tonight instead of his usual perch as close to her as possible on the couch. It was a small thing, but she felt it like a direct stab to the heart.

Finally, unable to take it anymore, Mary did what she did best. She took a deep, deep breath, looked down at the pattern on the couch arm, reached out, took the proverbial bull by his horns, and wrestled him clean to the floor. "Look, Marshall, about last night....I guess I came on too strong. I do that sometimes, and if I did something you weren't comfortable with, I apologize. I know you didn't want to kiss me, well, not for real, anyway, and I shouldn't have kept going like that. I...just...don't want us to have another day like today tomorrow. Okay?" She said all of this very fast, never looking up until the very end. When she did, Marshall could see her whole heart in the eyes that met his own, and he felt his heart turn over in response.

_Is this what she's been angry about all day long? Is that what she thinks? Oh, Mary.... _His anger and hurt faded to a dull ache, and his characteristic offbeat humor started to prick tiny holes through it. _We've been like characters in a farce all day, sniping at each other over the wrong things. _He chuckled, and then laughed outright when her eyes narrowed in that dangerous way.

He stood and crossed over to take his customary place next to her on the couch. He took her hand in his and squeezed gently. She continued to glare at him with mistrust, but she allowed the gesture.

"Do you know why I've been upset today?" he asked, tone filled with soft humor.

Her answering tone was suspicious and frustrated. "Yes. That's why I'm apologizing, you ass. Marshall..."

"No.... Mary.... That's what I'm trying to tell you. You're right about my feeling but wrong about the cause. "Mary, to be professionals who are trained to notice details and use those details to form hypotheses and solve crime, sometimes we're fairly oblivious. You think I've been upset because I didn't want to kiss you? Because you tricked me or waylaid me? Are you crazy? Who _wouldn't_ want to kiss you, Mare? What sane, breathing man would turn you down?""

She looked up at him with confusion. "What are you trying to say?"

He sighed and ran his free hand through his hair. "Mary, it wasn't that you kissed me last night. It was what you said about it this morning."

_Has he lost his mind? What the living hell is he talking about? What I said in this morning.... _She ran her mind over the conversation in the conference room. "What? The only thing I said was some joke about being tired because I was making out with some lame guy..." Her voice trailed off. "Oh..."

"Yeah. 'Oh.'"

"Well, hell, Marshall, we were just messing around like we always do. I didn't mean it. You know that, don't you?"

The part of him that had been dancing last night sighed in relief and did a giddy little two-step, but the rational part of his brain gave it a sharp, vicious kick and a harsh warning. "No, Mare." His voice was quiet. "Now I know last night to you was just something silly that got a little out of hand, " _we won't get into what it was to me_, "but I also know that you have a lot more...experience...with these things than I do, so when I heard you say that this morning, I sort of felt a little..." His voice trailed off, and he squeezed her hand, started again. "But if you didn't mean it and if I didn't mean it, then we should probably just forget the whole thing, right?" He forced a smile and looked up at her, determined to get their friendship back on what passed for an even keel for them.

Mary had been thinking about last night all day. Some of the worst moments of the day had been caused by the fact that kissing Marshall had been so very, very good and that he had apparently found it somehow wrong or disgusting. Apparently this was not the case. _He just said that he wanted to kiss me. Ha! And I SO want to kiss him, want much more than kisses, if I'm honest, and nobody anywhere can say that Mary Shannon is ever anything less than honest...._

She'd also heard the bone-deep hurt she'd caused him by accident with her casual insult that morning, and she regretted it in every way she could. This was the one person in her life who never hurt her, never betrayed her, never took from her just because he could. _And he thinks I found him lacking. Lacking. Hell, the only thing I found lacking was enough time and courage to get enough of him last night.... _She looked at the face of the man sitting there so close to her, and she made a decision.

She slipped her hand from his, and his smile wavered. "No, Marshall. I don't think we can or should just forget it." His smile fell completely, and she saw sadness flare in his blue eyes for just a moment. Then she reached out and laid her hand on his cheek. "I think this is far too important to just forget." And she leaned in and pressed her mouth against his gently, tenderly. She felt the shock run through him, felt a shiver slide through him, and she leaned back just a little.

His eyes fluttered open, met hers, searched hers. She saw the heat she remembered from the night before rising in them. "Mary," he whispered huskily, "what....are you..." She placed a finger over his lips and murmured, "Shh...." before replacing her finger with her lips, a longer kiss, but still a fairly passive one. She was waiting. _Make your choice, Marshall. You decide. It's up to you. Push me away or pull me in, but decide._

Marshall pulled back from her, and she felt a sadness blossom in her heart. _Well, you knew that would be a possibility when you did this, right? Now you start the cleanup. _He was looking at her face, his expression blank, still, unreadable, and she felt a most-unMary blush coming up. "It's okay, Marshall. I understand. You really don't want to do this. It's fine. Sorry. My mistake." She started to get up when he caught her hand and tugged, tumbling her down across him on the couch. She looked up into his eyes in surprise.

"Marshall, what the hell?"

In response, he lowered his head and took her mouth with his. There was nothing gentle about this kiss, nothing tentative or hesitant, and it rocked Mary's mind back on its figurative heels. _Holy shit. Wow. And yes. And may I have some more, please. _Her hands slid up his chest around his neck, and she made a soft little sound of happiness as his tongue opened her lips to slide slickly in and explore.

Her hands curled in his hair as he changed the angle of the kiss, took it somehow deeper, made it more intense, and she felt heat curling up from low in her belly. His hands slid down to her hips and at his urging, she shifted her position until she was sitting astride his lap. _Oh yes, much better. Very much better. Good idea, that. _Her mind practically purred as she settled herself more fully against the growing bulge she felt pressing against her through Marshall's jeans. _Hello, partner. Mmm... you're supposed to put your weapon away at the end of the day..._

She brought her hands down to the buttons of his shirt, suddenly longing to know the feel of the strong body beneath her. She worked the fastenings with the ease of long practice, flicking them open with one hand to run her hand over his muscular chest while one of his hands came up to cup her neck and the back of her head. She felt his other hand slide up from her hip to find the edge of her own cotton top and pulling it up to slide beneath across the bare skin of her back, pulling her against him hard. She curled her short nails into his chest slightly, skimmed them down his abdomen, a flexing of cat claws, and his answering groan and the instinctive shift of his hips beneath her made her ache._ Oh Marshall, beautiful, beautiful Marshall...the things you make me want to do to you... If you could read my mind, if you knew what I was thinking, I wonder if you'd run or if you'd stay... _She nipped his bottom lip gently just to hear him make that sound again, smiled against his mouth as he did.

She urged him to strip his shirt off, and he fought for a moment to get out of the button-down with her pinning him to the couch before he was revealed for her gaze. _Oh, and look...he's lovely. _She'd seen Marshall naked and nearly naked before, but there was a difference now, now that he was hers to touch, hers to glide hands over, to watch the skin and muscle shiver in delighted response as she circled her fingertip around his flat nipple, as she discovered the sensitive places along his neck and shoulders that make him sigh. He caught her hand and pulled it to his lips for a kiss in the palm before laying it on his shoulder.

He ran both hands up her torso under her top to cup the weight of her breasts in his palms. His thumbs slowly traced the peaks of her taut nipples through the fabric of her bra. It was her turn to groan, and her head fell back with pleasure as he pushed the satin up to touch her flesh to flesh. He took advantage of her exposed throat to press hot, open-mouthed kisses there, and she felt a rush of heat and weakness go tingling through her. She leaned back a moment and quickly took off the longsleeved top and bra. She could feel the hot azure of his eyes raking over her newly exposed flesh like a physical caress, and she held away from him a moment, proud of her physical beauty as she had never been before.

His gaze on her was an extra layer of arousal for her, and she shifted her hips against his erection to feel the friction. _Ah, Marshall, you're ready for me. And, oh, Marshall, I am so ready for you. _He was huge pressed against her, another unexpected surprise from this surprising night, this surprising man. "Marshall," she murmured, need lacing the name as it fell from her lips.

His eyes snapped to hers and she saw a tiny little smile. One of his large hands came up to cup her breast while his other arm wrapped around her waist. He held her captive with the intent in his eyes as he lowered his head, and then... _Oh God, I'm on fire, fire.... _She was writhing against him, falling back over his arm as he suckled her, devoured her. She moaned, hand clutching at his shoulders, then sliding into his hair as she first felt his teeth graze the aching peak, then felt his hot tongue swirl over her again and again, languorously lapping. He pulled away from her breast with a final loving kiss to return to her lips, and she frantically met his mouth with her own. As he kissed her, he turned her so they were lying on the couch with her beneath him. She murmured in satisfaction as he turned his attentions to her other breast. _Yeess...Just like that...don't stop....Marshall... so damn good... _She arched and purred as he continued to drive her higher and higher with his hands and mouth.

His husky laughter as he returned to her lips once again let her know her thoughts had become words, but she didn't care. "Don't stop, hmmm?" he said against her lips. "You keep underestimating me, Mare. I have no intention of stopping...." His hand slipped down between them, between her legs, and she sighed at the pressure of his hand through the denim of her jeans. She was kissing his neck and searching for the spots that made him shiver as his fingertips teased the zipper of her jeans down inch by inch, her hands running freely over the lean muscles of his broad shoulders.

Then, of course, as was so often the case in their lives, their job intruded on their personal world. Mary's BlackBerry began to buzz. Since her phone was still in her hip holster, and her hip holster was pressed very firmly into some very tender and sensitive anatomy currently, both Mary and Marshall jumped as though they'd been stuck with a pin.

"Shit!" growled Mary, and she and Marshall scrambled inelegantly to find the ringing phone pinned as it was. After a moment, Marshall found it and handed it to her still lying on top of her, his amused smile and arched brow firmly in place. She took it with a wry grin of her own and pressed the answer button. Marshall simply laid his head on her abdomen and watched her with intent eyes, fingers making dangerous circles on her ribcage. She stared right back.

"This is Mary. What is it, and it had damned well better be an emergency of biblical proportions."

"Mary, it's Stan, and I need you to get Marshall and come in right away. We've got a problem with a witness that is going to require both of you immediately. I think we can get it put to bed tonight, but he's going to have to be transferred before morning."

Marshall had started drawing intricate patterns on the bare skin of her breast with the tip of his index finger, coming close to the nipple but never quite touching. It was, to say the least, a bit distracting. She swatted at his hand sharply. "You're sure this can't wait until morning?"

"Mary, look, I know you must have had some kind of plans tonight, but you know I wouldn't have called if it could have waited. You know I am always respectful your private time when I can be. Don't give me crap about this."

Marshall was now wetting the tip of his finger in his mouth and using the damp digit to circle just outside her nipple slowly. His eyes were watching the effects of his work on her body as her nipple reacted, tightened for him. Her breath hitched as she watched him watch her, felt the sensations of his touch. She grabbed his hand to make him stop. His eyes snapped back up to hers, hot, aroused, wicked, and amused.

"Stan, look, I...." Marshall slid forward ever so slightly, leaned up above her sliding his hand from hers, pressed a closed-mouth kiss almost chastely to the side of her breast, nuzzled at the nipple, then slipped the peak between his lips to flick his tongue against her. Words fled her as she grabbed at his hair. She didn't know now whether she was trying to stop him or trying to hold him to her. An inarticulate little noise escaped her between her clenched teeth.

"Look, can you or can you not find Marshall for me and get over here in about thirty minutes?"

She forced her mind to string together coherent sentences. "I...I should be able to lay hands on him, yeah." Marshall was now suckling her slowly, lusciously, luxuriously, as if he intended to feast on her all night long. As she spoke, she felt him smile against her breast, but his only other response was to draw her sensitive flesh more deeply into his hot mouth. She felt the moan building in the back of her throat as he slid his a hand back down to her unzipped jeans, unhurriedly slipped inside them to rest teasingly against her underwear, fingers flexing in mind-altering little circles that moved lower and lower by micrometers only, never quite coming in contact with where she most needed him.

"Then I'll see you soon." Stan hung up, and Mary let the phone tumble out of her hands and she reached for Marshall, growling as she flipped him over on the couch. He was laughing, eyes still filled with heat and fire as she rose up over him to pin those wayward hands above his head.

"Problem?"

"You are pure evil, Marshall Mann."

"Yup," he said smugly. "Can be sometimes. Like I said, problem?" His gaze dropped back down to her lips, and she felt him shift his hips against her, felt the press of his need against her, felt it intensify her own.

"Oh no," she purred. "You know me. Pure evil is right up my street." She leaned down over him, pressing her breasts against him as she hungrily kissed him, attempting to release some of the frustration he'd created while she'd been on the phone..

"How long do we have?" he asked when she pulled her mouth away from his a few moments later, panting slightly.

"Not nearly long enough for what I have in mind. Not even the fast and dirty version."

He laughed, and it was a choked sound close to a groan. "God, the fast and dirty version...I don't know. As keyed up as you've got me...."

She released his hands and slipped one hand between them to slide it appraisingly, slowly along the rigid length of him through the jeans. He shuddered and pressed his face against her neck, hips arching helplessly into her caress, a needy noise coming from deep inside him that made Mary want to strip him naked and take him there on the couch, immediate and sweaty, despite the fact that Stan was waiting on them. She leaned down and whispered in his ear, "Ah, Marshall, don't tell me _this_ won't be good for the ride...."

"Mmm... Mary...what you do to me..." His voice broke, and he reached up and pulled her down, his mouth hungry, desperate.

They clung to one another for a few moments more, and then Marshall heard his own phone ringing from the kitchen counter where he'd laid it with his keys when he'd come home. Mary sighed, and they stilled, panting. After the second ring, she slid off him and retrieved the phone for him, carefully sitting at the other end of the couch from him as she returned. Marshall sat up and took the phone call, his eyes continuing to devour her. He beckoned with his hand while he listened and responded, and she smiled wickedly and shook her head. He made a face at her and lunged for her, so she retreated to the chair, laughing softly as he watched her go with narrowed eyes.

She listened to his side of the phone call, his words terse, brief with his frustration, and she knew it was Stan. She didn't understand the way his lips quirked up at the end, and when he closed the phone, she crossed to sit next to him again, leaned against him, and asked, "What?"

"It was Stan."

"Yeah. That much I got."

"He was worried about you. Said he'd called you and you sounded distracted, even a little addled, not at all like yourself. He wanted me to go take care of you and make sure you were okay."

"Ha! That's rich! When you were the source of the problem to start with!"

"Yeah, that might have been just a little too much information for old Stan."

She laughed trying to imagine Stan's reaction. "I could have just said, 'Stan, Marshall and I won't be able to come in tonight because we're about to be fucking like bunnies on his couch. See you bright and early tomorrow." They both fell over laughing.

"Bunnies? You found something rabbit-like about my performance? I need to start all over again, then, and see if you get a different impression this time...." He pulled her gently and she came willingly into his arms.

She stroked her hands over his cheekbones. Under the joking tone, she heard the echoes of the same worries that had caused problems earlier. _Gonna put this to bed now. Enough. _She leaned over and pressed her mouth to his, let her hands slide down to embrace him. "No rabbits. Rabbits are way too tame for what just happened here. I mean, damn, Marshall..." She sat back and looked into his eyes. "I don't know how often a four-alarm blaze like that happens for you, but...." her voice trailed off, suddenly uncertain of how to end the sentence she'd begun to reassure him, suddenly longing for a little reassurance of her own.

A beautiful smile appeared on Marshall's face, and he kissed her lips, took her face between his hands and tilted it down to kiss her forehead. "Only with you, Mare. Only with you. Haven't you figured it out yet? You _are_ the fire."

Inside her, the thing that had begun to unfurl and grow the day his lips had first touched her own burst into bright blossoms, flowered with fragrant petals, and she felt the tendrils of it creeping out tenaciously to climb and grow. _And this is my partner, my best friend. This man who just ran all my bells is also the man I trust to have my back when I go through the door in a firefight. This is...this is Marshall! _The wonder of it shimmered inside her, new and precious.

She was, of course, completely unable to articulate any of this, so she simply slipped her hand into his and squeezed, looking deeply into his eyes and praying he could somehow see the depth of her feeling. Then she sighed. "Come on, then. Otherwise, Stan will come looking for us, and if he finds us like this, I think there will be a mountain of paperwork. And if that happens, slick, you will be filling it out."

Marshall grinned and watched her rise, watched her efficiently pull on her bra and top, tried not to mourn too greatly the loss of her breasts. "Harsh, so harsh, but I have to admit.... the paperwork would _almost_ be worth it..." He wiggled his brows lasciviously at her, dodged the expected swipe and rolled to his own feet and began to set his own clothing to rights in preparation for their nighttime emergency. He was well aware there were more things that needed to be said, but he was equally sure Mary wasn't ready yet to say then. He could wait. There was time. He had had more that night than he ever expected to have, after all.

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**Read and Respond. I'm writing, I'm writing.....**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: ARGH! It won't finish on Halloween. Sorry! I've turned out 3 updates today, and that's about all I can do in one day. Sleep must come eventually. Alas....well, that will be more to love in a longer time, hopefully. Thanks for the positive feedback. I'm glad you're all enjoying this one along with me. As usual, I'm having fun writing it.

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Double, double toil and trouble; fire burn and cauldron bubble.  
- - - Shakespeare "Macbeth"

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The next two days were busy ones for WITSEC, and Mary and Marshall had little time to discuss the change in their relationship and no time whatsoever to pursue a deepening of the pleasures they'd discovered so unexpectedly. They'd driven all night with a witness in trouble to Las Vegas to drop him off to another pair of Marshals only to turn right back around and come back to Albuquerque and a seemingly endless string of minute but complex problems that needed their individual attention with their own witnesses. One of Mary's families had a water heater that had sprung a leak while they were out camping, and it had flooded their whole house in two inches of water so they'd needed to be relocated safely while a repair could be arranged. One of Marshall's had a rebellious teen who'd snuck out to an all-night Halloween Rave scaring his parents who'd been sure he'd been taken by the people who were hunting them.

There was a family with an outbreak of chickenpox that required two of the younger kids to be hospitalized, a call from the young woman whose beloved pet parrot had escaped its cage and would not come down from the tree in the back yard, and a perpetually nervous witness of Mary's who called in the middle of the night screaming that someone was coming to kill him. It turned out to be a scarecrow the neighbors had put up during his evening shift at work.... Marshall had been forced to restrain Mary physically and load her into the car.

"And if you call me again for a fucking SCARECROW...."

Marshall shut the door on her, turned and smiled at the witness. "She's tired. You know that if you truly have a concern, you should call. But...you might want to make sure the thing in question doesn't have a pumpkin for a head first...."

Back in the Tahoe, he'd pointed the vehicle at her house. "God! What is it? A phase of the fucking moon? Everybody has lost their damn minds! He called me to come take out a scarecrow, Marshall. He wanted me to shoot a SCARECROW."

Marshall looked at her out of the corner of his eye. "Yeah, well. It could have been worse."

"How? How could it possibly have been more ridiculous than that?"

"He could have called you because he was being attacked by rabid squirrels, pie-wielding clowns, bike-riding aliens, or killer tomatoes from outer space."

Her lips quirked despite herself. "Idiot. With the way this week is going, that call is next, and you know it."

He reached over the central console to take her hand. "You're tired. Neither one of us has gotten much sleep now for the past two days. Maybe tonight all the silliness will just take a break."

They pulled up outside her house. She looked at the darkened windows, and noted that apparently both Jinx and Brandi were gone. She tugged at his hand. "Come in for awhile?"

He was tired, ready to fall down and go to sleep, but he, too, had been longing for a minute or two alone with her. They hadn't had time to do more than catch a quick kiss when they'd been waiting for lunch at a drive-through window yesterday. He switched off the engine and followed her inside. No sooner were they inside than she turned and pressed him back against the door, her mouth eagerly pressing to his.

_Okay, so we're not going to chat.... Fine by me._ Marshall wrapped his arms around her, one hand snaking up to twine in her hair, and he kissed her back with two days' and three years beyond that of pent-up want. Mary groaned into his mouth, and her hands streaked under his coat searching for his skin.

"Take this off, off..." she demanded, tugging the jacket down his shoulders. He complied, and tossed the jacket toward the nearby chair before pulling at her own. "You, too," he murmured, leaving her lips to press a chain of nibbling kisses down her neck while she stripped the black leather jacket off. She made a little gasping noise as he found a particularly sensitive spot, and she stepped back and pulled him by the hand. He headed for the couch, but she tugged again and kept going down the hall and toward her room.

"Um, don't mean to object, but the couch was right there..."

She looked back over her shoulder, "Need more space for what I have in mind." And she smiled. In that smile was ecstasy,secret sins, and the end of the universe as it imploded in a rush of pleasure. His mind blanked completely out, and he grabbed her, pulling her into his arms to taste that heady mix her mouth promised. They bounced off the wall and into the doorway of her room, Mary backpedaling toward her bed.

Halfway there, she spun him with a neat shuffling of feet and the back of his knees hit the bed. He fell backwards and she followed him, draping across him, not breaking the kiss. Suddenly, he flipped her over, pinning her to the bed. He hunted for and found the spot on her neck he'd discovered by the front door, pressing teasing kisses there, and she wriggled underneath him, arching her hips against him. He groaned as she slid one of her legs up his to wrap around him.

"We have on too many clothes, Marshall, too many damn clothes." She was tugging at his shirt collar in frustration.

"I agree completely. Let's do something about that." He pulled away from her and he reached for the tail of her sweater, pulled it over her head, flung it over his head totally unconcerned about where it fell. She laughed at his eagerness and was then divesting him of his shirt as well. They came back together then, and she pushed him down on the bed, straddling his hips, and she ran her palms up his chest slowly, relishing the feeling of his strong body responding to her hands. He brought his own hands up to her waist briefly and then they were sliding up to her satin-covered breasts, cupping, caressing.

She leaned down over him for a kiss, their mouths clinging, seeking, hungry. He slid the straps of her bra down, reached around behind her to work the fastenings. "Still too many damn clothes," he murmured. She pulled back to let him pull the bra down her arms and cast it aside. His eyes raked over her, and he followed his eyes with teasing hands. For a moment, she just closed her eyes and savored the feeling of his finger grazing over her, caressing and arousing. Then she leaned back down against him, craving his kisses.

_And, oh, it's even better than I remembered. That's saying a lot. The taste of him, the way he touches me...._ He tweaked a nipple, and her eyes wanted to roll back inside her head. She ground her hips against him where she straddled him and was gratified to hear him groan. _But this time, I want more. There's so much more we didn't get to explore last time. This time, I want everything._ She broke the kiss, and she began to slide down his body, tasting him as she went. She sampled the sensitive places of his neck and throat enjoying the flutter of his pulse, moved down to his chest, pressing kisses there before lapping at his flat nipple with her tongue. His hands slipped into her hair, and she heard his breath hitch, felt his heart slamming in his chest beneath her lips as she kissed him above it on her way down him. She allowed her hands to trace the outline of his straining erection through his jeans, and smiled against his chest as his hips shifted and he called her name softly.

She was working her way down his abdomen with open-mouthed kisses and her hands had unbuckled his belt and were unzipping his jeans when she heard her front door slam. Brandi's voice trilled through the living room. "Mary? Marshall? Where are you two? I saw the truck outside...." She was coming closer and closer, and Mary leaped off the bed and slammed the door, leaning against it in alarm.

"Don't come in here, Squish."

Brandi paused in the hall, and she had an odd tone in her voice. "Why not? What are _you two_ doing all alone in the bedroom that I can't see?"

Mary frantically looked for an explanation, but she was coming up blank. Marshall, as usual, came to the rescue. He walked up behind her, pressing her to the door. "She's trying on Halloween costumes, and she thinks this one looks stupid. She didn't even want me to see her in it, but well, let's face it, _somebody _had to give her a second opinion...." Marshall laughed, leaned down, pushed her hair aside and kissed her on the back of the neck.

_Not again. He knows I can't think when he does this. God, I.... _She could feel every aroused inch of him pressing her against the cool wood of the door. His hands were slipping up her sides.

Brandi's voice did not sound convinced. "What kind of costume would she be that embarrassed about? Let me see it."

"No, Brandi. Get lost. I don't want anybody to see this outfit, trust me." She tried to turn around, but Marshall continued to press against her, his weight keeping her pinned. His fingers found the side of her breasts, and his mouth was working the sensitive spot just behind her ear. She shivered and dropped her head back against his shoulder, unable to help herself.

"Brandi, I think she should show you, too," Marshall said, amusement rife in his voice. "She's... dressed as a mermaid. She thinks it shows too much skin, though. I think she looks great, personally, but you know she has....issues. She said she didn't want to have to spend all night kicking asses." His hands slid around her, filled themselves with her breasts. She leaned her head against the door, and he chuckled against her ear.

"Oh," Brandi's voice changed. "Yeah. I know how she is. Well....in that case....are you two going to be long?"

"No, not too much longer," Mary managed. She knew her voice sounded thick with lust despite her efforts at control.

"Okay then. I'll be in the living room." Her footsteps retreated.

"God, you're just evil," she muttered, turning her head to press her cheek against the coolness of the door. _I'm burning up, I'm burning alive._

"Mmm... the devil himself...." He continued to kiss her, to caress her, and she wriggled her hips against him only to have him rock his erection against her in response. Her eyes were practically crossing with the extra stimulation and the frustration of the situation. _I'm going to kill everyone involved. Going to kill Brandi for coming home, going to kill Marshall for being a tease, going to get away from this door and throw him on the floor and just fuck him to pieces....._

"And shameless....my sister is on the other side of that door...."

"Yeah, she is." She felt him smile against her neck. "Kind of makes it hotter, doesn't it?"

She laughed in spite of herself. "Pervert." _Not going to tell him that he's right._

Marshall laughed and said right into her ear in tones that made her shiver, "You know you love it." before he sighed and stepped back. Mary had to make a concerted effort not to slide down the door into a heap. _Shit on a cracker. Yeah, yeah, I do love it. One day soon, that man and I are going to have to finish this. Oh yes indeed. This is __**twice **__now._

They found the bits and pieces of their clothing on the floor and got dressed, knowing that Brandi was waiting.

"So look, this brings the costume party back to my mind," Mary said. "I think we have a bet, don't we?"

Marshall was tucking in his shirt. He looked up at her with a knowing smile. "Do we? I don't remember. Remind me."

She walked across to sit down on the bed and she patted the space beside her. He joined her. "I think the bet was that I couldn't find a costume that I wouldn't be recognized in. Isn't that right?"

He gazed at her, took her hand in his for the sheer pleasure of feeling her body touching his own, even in this small way. _Don't you know that I'd know you anywhere in anything, even in the dark, even if I were blind? _"Yeah, that sounds about right. But Mare, come on, we were just playing around. We don't really have to do it. I mean, we're only a few days from the party now, and if you don't already have a costume...."

"No. I want to do this." She looked at him, eyes narrowed in consideration. "You seem pretty confident of your costume this year, bucko."

He grinned. "I am. It's good if I do say so myself. Why?"

"Care to add it to the wager?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I propose this: whichever one of us figures out who the other is before the unmasking without any underhanded stuff wins."

He looked at her a long time, thinking it over, poking it for loopholes and flaws, just as he always did, just as she'd known he would. She waited. The question would come.

"Wins what, exactly? If we're clarifying terms, I'd like to know what my prize is going to be...."

"Oh ho! Confident, aren't we?" She jabbed him in the shoulder. He just laughed and grabbed her hand.

"Well, what is the prize going to be, Mare? The one who guesses the other's costume before the unmasking wins what?"

"Wins whatever he or she wants, no restrictions allowed, questions asked, or quarter given." She smiled a slow, seductive smile as she saw the possibilities register, glitter in his eyes like newly-mined gold.

"Such as..."

"Well, for example, I was thinking that I really need...." she embraced him, leaned close, "I mean really, really need," brushed his mouth with her own, "somebody to repaint the trim on the house." She pulled back and looked up at him, biting her bottom lip to stop the laughter that was bubbling up inside.

"And you call me evil..." He pushed her over on the bed, and she dragged him down next to her, reaching for his sides where she knew he was ticklish. In a moment he was writhing and howling with high-pitched laughter as she tickled him.

Suddenly, Brandi burst into the room. "What the hell are you two...." She stopped when she saw Mary pinning Marshall down tickling him, and she rolled her eyes. "God. You two are so lame. You're like little children." She turned around and walked out of the room before she could see Mary stick her tongue out at her.

Marshall pulled Mary down on top of him and whispered in her ear, "Wouldn't be saying that if she'd really seen your 'mermaid costume." She snorted with laughter, and slapped at him.

"Idiot. Come on." She stood and pulled him up. At the door, she paused. "Wait. Do you accept the bet or not?"

He looked down at her for a long moment, and she could practically hear the plotty little wheels turning in his head. Then he smiled, and he glanced down the hall to make sure Brandi was nowhere in sight before leaning down to press a quick kiss to her mouth. "Bet accepted, Ms. Shannon. Get your best effort ready, and then," his voice dropped, was husky, "get ready to do what you're told."

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**Don't shoot me. There will be legitimate citrus later on. Remember, anticipation makes the pleasure sweeter..... R&R.**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Another chapter for you. I hope the Great Pumpkin was good to you all.

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There is nothing that gives more assurance than a mask. ~Colette

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Mary was in a state of desperation. It was early morning on her day off. Only two days were left until the party, and she had no costume. She was sitting on her bed surrounded by bits and pieces she'd assembled to put one together, but every attempt she'd made had looked amateurish, silly, slutty, or childish, and still somehow totally Mary underneath all that. _Dead. I'm dead. Marshall will see through this crap in about thirty seconds flat. My only hope is that he doesn't make me to do all the case paperwork for the next six months when he wins..._

Brandi walked by the door to Mary's room to find her standing in front of her mirror with an old bedsheet and a pair of scissors in her hand looking at them contemplatively. She paused a moment to take in the entire tableau.

"What the hell are you trying to do?"

Mary, startled and more than a little embarrassed to be caught reduced to thinking about the five-year-old's ghost costume, quickly hid the scissors and sheet behind her. "Squish! Um...."

"Tell me that you weren't about to cut eye holes in that old sheet and drape it over your head. Please."

Mary sheepishly brought it out from behind her back and looked down at it. "What? This? Brandi, I..."

"Mary, for the love of God. It has a _pattern_ on it..."

Mary sighed and walked over to the bed to sit down, tossing the sheet and scissors aside with the other debris in frustration. "I know, I know.... I can't find a costume for this damn party, and I'm going to lose a bet...." She ran her hand through her hair, pulling hard. "You're right about the sheet, though. I was just getting a little crazy. I need to go back out to the store, I guess."

Brandi came over to the bed and sat next to her, lifting a pair of glittery fairy's wings as she sat down and looking askance at Mary as she did so. Wisely, though, she did not comment. She laid them aside and looked at her older sister. "You know the shops are completely picked over now, don't you? I mean all the good costumes are gone months in advance, and if you've got some kind of bet going.... Who with, by the way?"

"Marshall."

"Oh, right. I guess that was a silly question. Well, anyway, you're going to have a hard time finding anything in the stores right now was my point."

"I know, Squish. You see the fruits of my shopping labors surrounding you." Mary flicked a flimsy packaged witch dress with her index finger. "None of this crap is going to trick Marshall for even three seconds. I'm in deep shit here."

Brandi was intrigued. "You mean you have to have a costume that is going to fool Marshall? Oooh, you are in deep doodoo, aren't you? I mean, he's really, really good...."

"Yeah, thanks. Point out the obvious." Mary stood up and walked over to her closet, started rummaging through the hangers in an effort she already knew was futile.

Brandi watched her another moment, and then spoke. "You know....I might actually be able to help you with this."

Mary looked over her shoulder, hardly daring to hope. "Yeah? How?"

Brandi was now playing with the halo from the angel costume, stroking the soft feathers gently between her fingers for the sensation. "I have a friend at school who works in the theater department who makes really fantastic costumes. He might be able to come up with something for you."

Mary felt hope flare then die. "But we only have two days."

"Whatever Max comes up with has got to be better than the bedsheet, though, right?"

Mary looked over at the pale pink paisley sheet and nodded. "You do have a compelling point. Call up your boy and let's get this thing together."

---

October sunshine spilled gloriously through the dusty windows of Maximilian Henderson's workshop falling on large wooden tables covered in half-finished projects, neat and richly-colored bolts of fabric, various wicked looking tools for the cutting and assembling of heavy textiles and many, many different types of sewing machines. The old warehouse had been converted into a studio workspace and living area. The faint smell of coffee pervaded the whole, and Mary found herself at ease immediately.

Maximilian Henderson, PhD, was not what she had expected. Standing well over six feet tall, he had a long neat ponytail of jet black hair and arms like a blacksmith. When he shook her hand, she felt a grip that could have crushed walnuts.

"So, Brandi tells me you're in a bit of a jam with a costume for a big Halloween party?" There was a pleasant tinge of another country to his speech, but Mary couldn't quite place the accent. He had ushered them in, offered them coffee, and they were sitting around a scarred and battered kitchen table.

Mary took a moment to sip the strong black coffee. _Mmm...Good. Very good. This bodes well. _

"Yes, Dr. Henderson..."

"Please," he said, waving away her courtesy title, "call me Max. I am only Dr. Henderson at the University, and not even then most of the time..."

Mary smiled at him. "Okay, Max, here's the deal..." She laid out her problem, the Masque, the bet, or at least the terms if not the prize, and the lack of costume. He listened, head down, fingertip tracing an invisible pattern on the ancient tabletop.

"Well, I am certainly familiar with the Masque. Every year, I wind up being contracted to make several of the costumes for it. It's a bit extravagant this year, is it not, with the theme Fantasy Surprise? I swear, that woman gets more and more over the top every passing year...."

Brandi slid a glance over at her, and Mary smiled. _Yeah, Squish, I like him. You knew I would._

"The real trick, Ms. Shannon...."

"Oh, by all means, call me Mary..."

"Mary, then... The real trick, Mary, is going to be finding something that suits you so late. I do not have the time to fabricate something new from scratch, more's the pity. You are a lovely woman, and designing for you would be a pleasure."

He said it off-handedly, and Mary felt none of her usual defensive "kick-your-ass-for-a-come-on" dogs bear their teeth. She took it as a complement and let it go.

"Let's see. You are a U.S. Marshall your sister tells me, yes?"

"Yes. That's right."

"So, at heart that would make you a warrior. Your costume cannot then be something passive or weak. Your true nature will show through it and the illusion will be ruined. A warrior cannot hide her true power. It has always been so. We must fit you with something that matches your spirit."

He pulled out a pad of paper and started jotting notes. She was a bit surprised to see that the phrases he was writing were not in English. He was silent a moment, thinking and writing. He looked up at her a couple of times, and then back down at his pad.

"It is truly a shame that I did not know of this problem before, Mary. A custom costume would have fit you much better, but I think perhaps I have solution. If you will come with me?" He rose, unfolding himself to his full height, and Mary was struck again by just how tall, how muscular he was. _Even taller than Marshall. This guy is __**big**__. And he sews all day for a living? _

He led them to a walled off section of the warehouse and pulled a set of keys from his pocket. He smiled at Brandi. "You will remember having been in here, yes?"

Brandi was smiling, too. "Oh, Mary, it's like...I don't even know how to describe it...it's like the world's most fantastic dress-up closet!"

Max grinned indulgently. "I think of it that way myself most of the time." He turned a key in the heavy deadbolt on the door and opened it. He flipped several rows of switches to reveal a large room filled with rows of hanging racks of clothes in plastic garment bags, heavy carved cedar trunks, and along the walls, lit glass cases in which fantastic costumes stood on mannequins in full display. "The students call this Aladdin's Cave, but for me, it is more like a trip down memory lane." His eyes ran lovingly over the glass cases, lingering a moment on each one, and Mary could see those memories he spoke of flickering through his dark eyes.

"Max," she said reverently, "where did all this come from?"

He smiled. "I have been designing costumes for as long as I can remember. My first ones were made of my mother's best bedsheets. She whipped me and sent me to bed without supper. Then she taught me how to use a needle and thread...." He laughed at the memory, and Mary and Brandi exchanged a glance over the bedsheet reference, remembering the near incident at home.

"I grew up to be always interested in the making of costumes, in masks and masquerades, so it seemed a natural thing to take as a profession." He gestured to the room around him. "Some of these were made for Broadway performances, one or two for London and Hollywood, some for private individuals like you, some for the theater here at the university. Not all of my creations come back home, of course....I take many commissions in addition to my teaching and research. I never got over the desire to sew together the bedsheets, you see." His eyes were twinkling with mischief, and Mary could almost see a small darkhaired boy wielding scissors for a moment.

"Well," he said, clapping his hands together, "let us go this way. The costumes I have in mind for you will be against the far wall."

They crossed the collection, and Max paused several times to answer Brandi or Mary's questions. "Yes, that one was designed for a performance of a play about Queen Elizabeth I. Oh my God...how many hours did it take to sew that damned ruff! I hate it when I even hear the whisper of the word 'Elizabethan'...." Later, "That flapper dress is actually not of my handiwork. It is an original I only restored. Those beads are what are referred to in _The Great Gatsby_ as the color 'gas blue.' I was lucky to find it in such excellent shape."

They reached a section of the storage room that was made up of many glass cases, and Max paused before one of them. Inside was a costume that was all black and silver. A great black-feathered cape swept from the shoulders to the floor to trail around the soft black knee boots. Underneath the cape was a sleeveless heavy black cotton tunic-dress that fell to mid-thigh, leaving a provocative glimpse of bare flesh between boot-top and hemline. The dress was decorated with a running pattern of Celtic knots worked in silver along its hem and lowcut curving neckline, and around the waist an intricate belt of silver cords fastened with a large shield-like buckle incised with a pattern of three ravens. The mannequin in the case had its hands wrapped around a great blackshafted spear with a wicked-looking silver head, also carved with ravens. Those hands were covered in long black gloves, and the gloves had sinister silver claws made into them.

The piece that took Mary's breath away, however, was the mask. Covering the full face as it swept down from the crown of the head, the mask was that of a raven. It was glossy black and gleaming, highlighted with silver accents. The beak was curving and cruel. The eyes had been obscured with silvery-black glass gems of some kind, so it appeared that they looked down at you with living intelligence from the case. More feathers spilled down the back of the mask to mingle with those of the cape, forming the illusion of a giant bird-woman.

"What is it?" Mary asked after a few moments of stunned appreciation.

Max lay a loving hand on the case, and he smiled at her. "Mary Shannon, meet the Morrigan. She's a wild and wicked thing, and she took me more than three weeks to create because, hateful, willful, proud bitch that she is, she just kept arguing with me about the details." Mary didn't miss the way his hand made a caressing little circle on the glass or the somehow intimate tone in his voice.

Brandi snorted. "Sounds just like my sister, Max, if you want to know the truth."

Max turned away from his reverie, snapped back to the present with raised brows and a chuckle. "Really? Well then, perhaps I've chosen more rightly than I know. What do you think of her, Mary? Do you think she suits you? If not, I have some others I can show you..." He gestured to the row of lighted cases behind him, and Mary glanced down them, saw gold and rainbow colors shimmering in invitation. Her eyes were drawn back to the majestic splendor of the inky plumage in front of her.

_No. This. I am not a rainbow fairy princess. I am this, whatever this is. It's dark, it's dangerous, and it's gorgeous. She walks with an attitude of authority and a spear in her hand. I understand her. This is me._

She took a step toward the case. "Max, if you're really going to let me wear any of these gorgeous things, then this is the one I'd like to try."

Something flickered in Max's eyes, and he smiled. "Try might be the operative word, Mary. Let's get her out and see if she takes a liking to you, then." He withdrew another key from the ring, set it into a small lock on the side of the case she hadn't noticed, and the door swung open. Max began to divest the mannequin of its glory and hand the pieces out to Mary and Brandi.

---

It fit her as though it had been custom-made just for her. She stood in front of the wall of mirrors in Max's dressing area in shock. The heavy cotton of the tunic clung where it should cling and draped where it should drape. Even the boots were the right size. Max helped her get the feathered cape around her shoulders and she stared at the reflection of herself in the mirror.

_It's like it's not even me, and I haven't even put on the mask yet. Damn, this guy is good. We should use him when we're trying to hide witnesses...._

Over her head Max lifted the mask, and while Mary was expecting it to be a heavy and uncomfortable burden, it was actually surprisingly light. She realized that the glass eyes were like two way mirrors. She could see out them, but others could not see it. _Neat trick, that. Keep Marshall from being able to see my eyes and recognize me this way, at least. _Max handed her the spear, and the costume was complete. She wrapped her hand around it, and she stood before the mirror transformed.

_Holy hell. Look at that. That is...truly fucking scary.... It's awesome in the original sense of the word....  
_

Max and Brandi stared. Max began to speak. "Do you know the Morrigan, then, Mary?"

"No," she murmured, still captivated by the image in the mirror.

"Let me introduce you more properly, then, since it seems you're going to be spending time with her. She's a triple-aspected battle goddess of the ancient Celts. Possibly your people, I think, with a last name like Shannon? Maybe that's why she's taking such a liking to you....anyway, she was a shape shifter. She could appear in several different forms, but she is always associated with the raven.

She flew over the fields of battle encouraging the men to fight, and indeed in one of her forms could cause a battle-rage to fall that would make all men slaves to that madness. She could sway the battle one way or another, making her also a goddess of fate or destiny. One of her aspects even chose the warriors who would live and die, showing them their bloody clothing being washed by a stream to tell them of their coming death. Some of the other areas within her domain are revenge, magic, and death. She's known in Celtic lore as the Great Queen and the Phantom Queen, but I must say Mary, she's never looked before as regal as she does just now."

Mary could see it somehow, see the black wings sweeping down over the armies massed to fight, hear the harsh rasping caw of the slick-winged raven ringing over the clash of metal and the cries of death. It was unnerving and exhilarating at the same time. She knew all too well what it was to go into battle, not to know whether she was going to come out of it alive, whether her clothes had been washed in that stream, knew all too well the fierce joy of triumph and survival at the end..... Her hand tightened on the spear shaft.

Brandi leaned up to tug the cape back a little off her shoulder, stepped back again to study the effect. "Marshall is never even going to know what hit him. You're going to win this thing for sure, Mary."

Beneath the intense gaze of the mask, a predatory smile grew.

* * *

**Okay, R&R....I had an absolutely horrible time trying to decide what costume to put Mary in. I had this one or one other in mind, but this one seemed to fit her (and no, not just because I'm Nemain....). I just couldn't put her in anything cutesie. She threatened to cut me.... Marshall's was much easier, but you'll have to go with her to the party to see it. What do you think of hers? (Nervously nibbles fingernails....)**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Everyone seemed to like the Morrigan, and I'm so glad. She's a great favorite of mine among my mythological folk. I thought she fit, and I'm glad so many of you see that connection for Mary, too. Thanks for being such a great readership.

* * *

**

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,  
In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore;  
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;  
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door  
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door  
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

"The Raven" – E.A. Poe

* * *

Max helped her out of the costume and they put it back on the mannequin. "I think you'd better come here to get dressed tomorrow night so I can help you get into the costume and get everything arranged properly. She's a bit tricky to handle on one's own." He rested his hand on the glass case, and he looked up at the gleaming ebony goddess now in repose.

Mary nodded, following his gaze. "I absolutely agree. I would also feel much better about wearing that if it didn't have to be out of your hands longer than necessary. Plus, this way, there's no chance of Marshall seeing it by accident between now and the Masque."

Max smiled. "Good. So everything is arranged. If you will come here about an hour before you are supposed to go to the Masque, I will transform you into the Phantom Queen, and you can go and win your bet." He closed the case and turned the key. The mask seemed to watch them from its perch on the mannequin's head as they walked away.

---

Brandi and she chatted as they were driving away. "Mary, you looked absolutely incredible in that costume!"

Mary smiled. She was really, truly pleased with it. It was the first time that she could ever remember actually enjoying the thought of going to one of these things since she was maybe four years old, and she knew the ebony richness hanging in Max's glass case was a big part of why. As for the other part.... Her smile widened into a wicked grin. "I bet Marshall won't be expecting _that_ to walk in...."

Brandi laughed. "Oh, definitely not. He's probably going to be looking for something more along the lines of the paisley bedsheet." They were about to pass the exit for the mall when Brandi spoke again.

"Hey, Mary, look. Could we stop off here for a few minutes? I need to run in and pick up something."

Mary groaned, but Brandi cut off her protestations, "I'll be really fast, I promise, and besides, I did just save your ass." Mary had to concede the point, so she switched lanes quickly, cutting off a few drivers, and exited to the palace of dread, the mall.

Inside, Brandi quickly popped into a small clothing store to pick up a dress she'd had on hold for a party she was going to herself the following evening. She came out holding the long bag, and Mary rose with relief from the bench where she'd been uneasily watching mothers dragging sticky-faced toddlers by the hand toward or away from the nearby toy store.

"Got it then? Can we just get the hell out of here now? This place give me the creeps."

Brandi smiled at her and draped the bag over her arm gently. "Yeah...except, oh, wait, no. Actually, there is one more place I need to go." She smiled her most charming and coaxing smile.

Mary's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Where? If it involves shoes or jewelry, you can flat damn forget it."

"Oh, no. I promise. No shoes. No jewelry. It's just right down there...." Brandi gestured vaguely toward the end of the mall. There were only three stores, a large entertainment shop, a card and gift store, and....Victoria's Secret.

"Brandi, tell me you need a CD."

"Come on. It won't kill you. Besides, based on what I saw at Max's, you need something to go under that costume, too." Brandi grabbed Mary's hand and began to drag her down the middle of the mall just like the frazzled mothers with their cranky two-year olds. Mary suddenly had a new sympathy for the shrieking children as they neared the store and frills and lace began to engulf her....

---

Inside the lingerie shop, Mary felt as if she'd stepped across into a parallel universe. She certainly understood what all these things were, but she could not understand the concept of so many of them, why anybody would willingly spend multiple hours shopping for them, or why anybody would want them to be so...so..._decorative...._

_I mean, come on.... So yeah, okay, this one is pretty, _ she thought, lifting a red lace bra from a table. _However, if I wore this to work and then had to run down some criminal, I would be bouncing and flying all over the place. It's just not practical. And as for recreation...well, who keeps them on long enough? I mean, hell, if you're doing it right, isn't the point to get them off?  
_

Brandi was picking out a strapless bra from a wall rack. She turned to watch her sister pondering the red lace lingerie, and she shook her head.

"No, Mary. That's really pretty and all, but what you need to go under the Morrigan is something black, something with support that lifts you up...."

"Wait, something that 'lifts me up'? What the hell, Brandi? You make it sound like I'm a fall-down building that needs scaffolding or something. And you'd damn well better watch how you respond to that. We're a long way from home."

"You know very well what I mean. That costume has a low neckline. It was made to show off the girls." She made a flouncy little gesture near her chest, and Mary winced both at the gesture and at the phrase, "the girls." " You have them. For the love of God, show them off for once."

Mary glowered at her sister, but still hesitated. "I...I don't know..."

"Look. Think of it as like a part of the costume. It's something you would never do normally, right?"

"Right," Mary said uneasily. She didn't like logic suddenly coming out of Brandi's mouth. It was unnatural, disquieting, as if the world had been set on its head somehow....

"Then it will help you hide from Marshall, right?"

"Umm....maybe so..." Mary turned back to the racks of lingerie in confusion. _Damn. She has a point. Hate that she has a point because not only does that mean I'm going to have to try this fluff on, it also means I'm going to have to wear it tomorrow night...._ Brandi walked over and pulled a black satin and lace bra off the rack and handed it to her.

"Go try this. I think it will do the job." She shooed Mary toward the dressing room and turned back to her own shopping.

----

It had much more than "done the job." When Brandi had forced her way into the dressing room a few minutes later, Mary had been staring at her chest in astonishment.

_Okay, so I've seen a push-up bra before. Hell, I own one or two...somewhere....I think..... But this, this is...._

"Well, ...that's quite impressive. I think you'll fill out the front of that tunic quite nicely now. The law enforcement community is going to be getting an eyeful."

"You'll want to shut up about that now, Brandi." _I feel like one of those "Engineering Marvels" on TV. It's all me, but I'm not usually quite this cinched up and in. Geez... _She tugged lightly at the bottom band, trying to get used to the new image of herself in the mirror. _That person in the mirror is SO not Marshal Mary Shannon...._

Brandi laughed. "Sure. Whatever. But...get that one. Oh," she pulled out a tiny swatch of satin and lace from behind her back. "And while you're trying things on? Here are the matching panties." She tossed them at Mary and retreated safely beyond the door as Mary lunged at her.

Mary had decided to buy the lingerie. Brandi was right. If Max was going to loan her the costume, she should at least have something appropriate to go under it. She ran her fingers over the satin. It really was lovely, she admitted to herself. The satin had a slightly iridescent sheen to it that reminded her of the eyes of the Morrigan mask, and the lace was trimmed with little flecks of silver. The matching panties were much more silvery lace than shimmery satin, and she'd felt wicked and somehow powerful with them on. _Well, he did say she's the Phantom Queen of magic._

As she stood at the register waiting to check out, she sighed. _I am going to have to come up with something really good as a prize for this bet to make Marshall pay for this trip alone...._ Her mood began to brighten. _Maybe it can even have something to do with this underwear.... _Images ranging from the amusing (Marshall being forced to wear it, maybe even at the office) to much more intimate scenarios (Marshall slowly removing it with his teeth as a prelude to a night of making all those little fantasies she'd been having come true) played across her mind, and by the time she handed the teenager behind the counter her check card, she was in a very good mood indeed.

_---_

The rest of that evening and the next day passed in a blur, and soon it was time to get ready for the Masque. Marshall dropped her off home, and for a moment as he sat at the curb with the engine idling, he just looked at her.

"Are you sure you want to keep this bet on for tonight, Mare," he asked gently, reaching out a hand to push a few strands of hair away from her cheek.

She grinned, thinking of silver lace and a blackshafted spear. "Oh yes. Very sure. Why? You're not getting cold feet on me are you? Not afraid you're going to wind up as my personal little slave boy? I do have some very specific plans for you, you know...."

The smile that slipped over his lips was intimate, wicked, and he leaned across the center console to catch her mouth in a quick, hot, kiss. "Oh, Mary, remarks like that are dangerous, dangerous...and have been known to backfire...."

She was undaunted. "No deal, partner. A bet is a bet. I'll be seeing you sometime tonight before the unmasking." She smirked at him, tangled her fingers in his hair and pulled him forward for one more quick kiss, and then was out of the Tahoe and down the sidewalk to her house.

Marshall watched her go, taking a moment to savor the feeling of her mouth still tingling against his. "You can count on it, Mary. You can count on it," he murmured to himself. He smiled, cranked the engine, and drove off to finish his own preparations. He was eager for the night to come and the hunt to begin. He already knew exactly what he was going to ask for when he won.

---

Mary arrived at Max's at the designated hour, Brandi having dropped her off. She was struck again by the simple functionality of his work and living quarters. Max was waiting for her, and they went directly in to the huge storage wardrobe to get the Morrigan from her case. As they walked, Mary noticed two or three of the other glass cases were also missing their occupants. She tried to remember what costumes had graced the now bare mannequin forms, but for the most part, they had all run together in her mind as a blur of color and light.

"Um, Max, looks like you've been ransacked here," she said, guessing that others had come to Max for his expertise in costuming.

Max looked at one of the empty cases they were passing before turning to give her a fond smile. "Yes. I suppose it rather does at that. Of course, a more fanciful mind might say that my creations have made their escape, gone out to play for the evening." Humor sparkled deep in his eyes, and Mary had the odd sensation of being left out of a private joke. "Well, I wouldn't worry too much about it, Mary Shannon. I suspect they will wear themselves out before too long and come along home soon. You will probably see some of them tonight, in fact. Let us just hope they all try to behave themselves...."

_Riiight. Well, okay, everybody who's brilliant is a little eccentric, right? And let's face it,_ she thought as they came to a stop before the case where the Morrigan stood in regal elegance, drawing in and conquering the light like a black star sapphire, _when it comes to this, apparently this man is a god...._

They carefully removed the costume from its case and carried it out to the dressing area. Mary began to get ready_. _She had put on her new lingerie after taking her shower, and although she'd felt silly in the car on the way over in her jeans and t-shirt, as the heavy black tunic slipped over her body and Max came in to tighten the laces in the back, her feelings changed. _Damn, Brandi was right. _She studied her reflection in the mirror. A wicked grin crept over her features. _Marshall isn't even going to be able to speak __when he sees this. _

Mary was going to the Masque in a taxi from Max's. _Ha! I'm not in WITSEC for nothing! I'm not losing this bet by stepping out of that damn Probe in this costume. I know my partner, and he's sneaky enough to be watching the parking lot...._ She slipped on the soft leather boots, and sat down to put on her makeup at the table in Max's dressing area.

Max came in to check on her progress. "If I may make a suggestion about your hair...." This was said from near the entry space to the area, and he was perfectly still as he leaned against the frame watching her.

_It's like he knows it's dangerous to say these things to me...._

She narrowed her now-lined eyes briefly, and forced herself to smile. _Play nice, Mary. The man is letting you borrow a costume you probably couldn't pay for in two years. _

"Um, yeah, sorry... Not much of a "hair and makeup" chick. What did you have in mind?"

Max crossed the room and picked up her brush. "For the Morrigan, the hair must go up...." Mary felt a moment of nerves as he wove his huge strong hands through her hair and began to work it into an updo. She looked at him uncertainly.

"Do this for everybody who wears one of your costumes, do you Max?" She realized that she didn't feel threatened or alarmed, just...somehow...unsettled.....

Max did not pause, blush, or even register that he heard the tone in her voice. He merely smiled that same Cheshire cat smile and continued to use her brush and a comb he'd produced from somewhere to do something complicated to her hair. "Ah, no, Mary. You see, because there are costumes, and then there are _costumes...." _He gestured absently with the comb. "The Morrigan is of course one of the latter.... Most people would not be interested in wearing her. You may be only the third to put her on since she was fashioned."

_I'm missing something important here. What is he trying to tell me? And should I be scared? Brandi said he was okay, and more importantly, none of my kick-his-ass-he's-a-freak alarms are going off...._

Max patted her shoulder and said with satisfaction, "Ah, there, now, that is as it should be." Mary looked up at her own reflection and was mystified by the change. Her hair was pulled back into several intricate braids that were swept back into a coil that would keep the weight of her hair off her neck and hidden under the raven mask. She turned her head left and right and looked at the effect. It was her, but not her, somehow.

Max had walked into the other room while she studied his handiwork, and he came back with carved wooden box. "This is the last part of the costume, something I had forgotten about almost until I was putting up your hair. It is not kept with the rest of it in the wardrobe. I keep it in a separate vault." He held the box for another moment, thumbs making small circles on the lid as if he were making a decision about something, and then he placed the box in her hands gently.

She took it and looked at the box for a moment, admiring the intricate carving of the box. Celtic scrollwork leaves covered every inch of it, and peeking from within those leaves, once she looked more carefully, were the heads and beaks of...ravens.... In the center of the box, a large circle crest was carved similar to the one on the belt buckle she now had clasped around her waist, three large ravens chasing each other eternally. She removed the lid to look at the contents.

Inside resting on a lining of jet black velvet was a shining silver torc. The part that would encircle her neck was as thick as her thumb and was intricately carved with the same complicated leaf pattern as the box itself. At the ends of the torc instead of a loop or a ball as was common were two stylized ravens in flight. It was a heavy, magnificent piece of workmanship, and although Mary was no connoisseur of jewelry, she knew it must be both extremely old and very valuable. She traced her fingers over it lightly before looking up at Max.

"Max...I....wearing the costume is one thing, but this...this looks like it belongs in a museum somewhere...."

Max smiled, and that same unfathomable light was dancing in his eyes again. "It belongs," he said softly, distinctly, and in a tone that while gentle, brooked no argument whatsoever, "to and with the Morrigan. And I believe, Mary, that tonight at least, that's you. So...shall I help you put it on? It may need a bit of bending, and I believe it's quite heavy...."

Max lifted the torc from the box before Mary could formulate another refusal. She watched those huge strong arms bring the silver circlet up behind her neck, felt the ravens touch her throat, saw his muscles flex once, and the ravens slid home around her as though they'd always been there, as though they'd been made just for her, resting against her pulsepoints, silver warming as it touched flesh.

She looked up at Max in the mirror and he saw something shift in her eyes. She smiled fiercely at him, a sudden baring of the teeth that was both joy and something more, something slightly dangerous. She stood, held her arms out regally, expectantly, and Max draped the cloak over her with a swirl of dark plumage. She stalked over to where the spear rested against the wall and took it up with a practiced hand, spun it in her hands once to hear it sing through the air. She turned back to the mirror and looked again at her reflection, cocked her head to the side, just a little birdlike, considering, restless, turning slightly to take in all the angles and views.

Max came up behind her, rested his hand on her shoulder, paternal. "It's time to go. Enjoy yourself, but not _too_ much. I'll see you when you come home." She flashed him a mischievous smile and leaned over to kiss him very much like a daughter headed to the prom, and then, suddenly, she leaned back and the smile was gone.

Mary was shaking her head, and she had to reach out a hand to Max, who simply lent his arm for her to lean on as she stumbled a step as they walked toward the door to the studio. He gave her a mildly concerned glance, but she just shrugged. _What the hell? I'm light-headed....how did I get to be standing up? The last thing I remember was him putting the necklace on me...maybe I need food...._

Max put the mask on her as the taxi arrived and wished her good luck. He continued to stand in the doorway as the taxi pulled away, watched the glorious riot of black feathers disappear toward her night of adventure. Then he chuckled softly and went back inside the quiet comforting workshop he was currently calling home.

* * *

**Hmmm.....Don't know what you're going to think of this one, but this is where this one wants to go. It was headed this way last chapter, and I fought it, but Max is what he is. There is still a bet to win or lose and the consequences of that to be seen, but now there's something....more.....**

**Love it or run away.... R&R....**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Y'all know I usually do my homework and put these things in places that are real, etc. However, this time, I'm completely throwing reality to the winds (bwahahaha!). If you live in ABQ or if it's near and dear to your heart, I do apologize and claim poetic license. I hope it doesn't spoil anything for you that I'm about to drop a great big old building right smack-dab in the middle of your fair city....

* * *

**

And now was acknowledged the presence of the Red Death. He had come like a thief in the night. ….And Darkness and Decay and the Red Death held illimitable dominion over all.

"The Masque of the Red Death" – E. A. Poe

* * *

The Masque was held in different locations each year. The organizers liked to be as "theme appropriate" as they called it as possible. This year, they'd chosen the landmark MorningStar Hotel's ballroom. As Mary's taxi approached, she could already see a stream of costumed people entering the tall revolving doors of the gorgeous old art deco structure. Elaborate fairies in gossamer wings hung on the arms of Titans, laughing in enjoyment of relief from the all-too-serious realities of the jobs hidden behind the costumes.

Something she recognized as one of Max's creations was stalking up to the doors, feline and Egyptian, a cat woman with golden rings in the ears of her mask and white linen molding her overtly feminine curves, a wide collar-necklace of lapis and red jade around her neck and halfway down her chest. The mask of the cat-woman rotated to look at Mary through the taxi window for just a moment, and the eyes were glittering green lined with gold. Mary had the oddest feeling that they recognized her, that it was someone she knew personally, an old friend.

_Well, now you're just being silly.... _She reached up to smooth her fingers over one of the ravens of the torc. As soon as her fingertip made contact with the curving beak, she felt a rush of confidence flood her. She paid the driver and opened the door. As she walked up the curving stairs to the doors of the entrance, a cool October breeze caught the black cloak and fanned it out behind her. She saw people turn to stare at her, but she strode forward.

_Look all you like. It's a free show and very worth the seeing. _She felt a thread of dark and arrogant mirth trickle through her, and she was aware that her walk had become a bold strut as she pushed through the rotating glass doors and crossed the crimson carpet of the old hotel's elegant lobby. Ahead of her, she could see the short staircase and carved marble arch that led into the great ballroom opening like a hungry maw. Raucous music and the sound of a contented crowd spilled out. She climbed the stairs, allowing the tip of the spear to strike the marble with each step just to hear the satisfying click. The feathers of her cape made the sound of a thousand dark rushing wings as it slithered over the stairs behind her.

Just inside the front door was a small table behind a screen serving as a coat check, and checkpoint for ID and invitations. Mary couldn't help but laugh at that a little under her mask. _Only law enforcement would have an ID check at a costume masque. We're a pitifully suspicious bunch by nature, even when we're off duty... _Mary could tell from the comments being made by others as they tilted up their masks or pulled off the false heads of their costumes that the same thought was crossing their minds, too. She waited until the little area was empty, looked around to make sure nobody was watching, and quickly stepped up to the check in.

Working the table was Bobby D. clad in a costume that was designed to be Greek. A glitter-covered lightning bolt and a circlet made of gold leaves lay on the floor behind him along with a golden halfmask. While Mary was raising the mask from her head, he had been idly ogling her newly "scaffolded" cleavage and tapping the pen he was using to make notations on the clipboard on the table in front of him. When Mary's head emerged from the raven, Bobby dropped the pen and muttered, "Holy Shit!" The other guy at the table looked at him in question, ran appreciatively over Mary. "You okay, Bobby D?"

"Uh...yeah. Yeah. No problem." Bobby ran his eyes over Mary from head to foot slowly once, then once again. "Jesus, Shannon, give a guy a heart-attack, will you?"

Mary bared her teeth in a slow, feral grin. She held her arms out and did a slow turn. "You like?"

Bobby D. stuttered. "Y-y-yeah. I can honestly say that I like very, very much." He shook his head like somebody waking up from a dream and then grinned. "But don't you usually have Mann stuck to you like a Siamese twin? Where the hell is he? You're going to need him tonight to beat guys off you even if you are carrying a stick...."

Mary waved a silver-clawed finger at him, looked at him with something disturbing in her eyes. "You wouldn't be implying that a girl like me can't take care of herself would you, Bobby D?" She put the tip of the claw under his chin very gently, scratched in a soft circular motion. "That would be endlessly unwise...."

"Oh hell no. I know much better than even to hint that." Bobby found himself being confused by a tiny trickle of fear, a rush of lust, and the admiration he always felt for her. It was a weird mix, even for being around this woman.

Mary laughed and took her hand away, that light disappearing from her gaze. "Good for you Bobby D. There's hope for you yet. Look....do me a favor. If you do see Marshall...don't tell him what my costume is, okay? He and I sort of have a bet going..."

Bobby D. ran his eyes over her again. "I'm going to have to say that unless he's pulled something magic out of his hat, girl, you own his skinny ass."

Mary smiled, that disturbing light glimmering in her eyes again as she slid the raven mask back on. "Ah, Bobby, that's what I'm counting on...."

---

Mary went inside the ballroom proper and looked around. The lighting was dim, but she could see that the hostess committee had really gone insane this year with the decorations. The old ballroom had lent itself to the otherworldly theme they'd chosen, anyway, and was known for the extravagant art deco interpretation of Gothic arches and motifs that were a part of its basic carvings, design, and décor. The ladies had furthered this with heavy black draperies over everything that couldn't move fast enough to get away from them, heavy twisted metal candelabrum with flickering (battery-powered, Mary was relieved to see) candles, and strands of purple fairy lights woven here and there. The piece de resistance was in the very front of the room, a giant, twisted sprawling tree whose branches were suspended from the ceiling in every direction, dangling gossamer streamers and lights over the dancers already gyrating on the dance floor to the rock the DJ was spinning. The organizers had gone so far as to get a dry ice machine from somewhere, and a fog of it was floating hazily around the base of the tree.

_Not bad. It looks a bit "fantastic," I suppose. As close to ethereal as one can get in Albuquerque, anyway... _

She surveyed the crowd, automatically looking for Marshall in the crowd. _Of course it's not going to be that easy, _she thought with both irritation and amusement as she studied the angels, gods, fairies, witches, wizards, devils, and monsters in front of her. All sense of height and size had been altered by the addition of platform shoes, masks with crests, wings, and costumes with padding. _Damn, even though it should be easy to pick that beanpole out of this crew, this is going to take some doing....._

Her first inclination was to take one of the tables along the wall and do reconnaissance from there, but an inner voice whispered to her, _"Silly child. That is the first thing he expects. He will be looking for you to withdraw and behave in your usual manner. To elude him, you must do the unexpected."_ She felt a nudge toward the dance floor.

_Ah, hell, but I hate to dance, especially to dance alone... Still, probably right, though. Marshall is smart that way. Knowing him, he probably is stalking me like that from somewhere. _She felt a frisson of something slide up her spine at the idea that Marshall was there in the room behind one of those faces watching for her, trying to find her, hunting her. _And I know from experience that when he puts his mind to something, he is dangerous...._

That inner voice laughed softly in her mind's ear. _"Is he? Good...so long since I've had any kind of challenge....Don't worry if he's dangerous.... so are we, so are we..."_ And the Morrigan smiled beneath the mask, pushed the feathered robe back to reveal her white shoulders and stepped out on the dance floor. She was swallowed up by the crowd of revelers instantly.

---

She found that once she started dancing, she loved it. She lost track of the number of partners who engaged her, slid hands around her sometimes, if she was in the mood temporarily to permit it, had them slapped away if she was not, came to stand near her as she felt the power of the music move through her like an enchantment. Men were drawn to her as if by...._magic or madness..._ her mind filled in the words for her, and she heard a small laugh not her own echo through the corridors of her mind. She took a break to leave the spear at the check-in table with security and noticed that Bobby D. had apparently rotated out onto the floor. She made a note to try to find him.

As she looked around the dance floor, she saw all sorts of costumes, but she realized that she could discern the ones that Max had created. They were somehow both less and more than the others that surrounded them. They sparkled just as much, but they were never gaudy. There was nothing trite, cheap, or tacky about his work. Their details were richer, their characters more fully realized.

She saw the Egyptian cat-woman again gracefully writhing in the arms of a devil clad all in black except for his mask, and across the room, she saw another of Max's creations, this time one she recognized, Athena, her mask a golden owl, feathers white with glimmers of gilt on the tips. Both of these women turned as her gaze fell on them and there was again that subtle click of recognition, of some sort of kinship with them for that brief moment before they turned their eyes back to their entranced partners and the link was broken. _I must be losing my mind. What the hell? _Mary shook her head just a little, but she couldn't get rid of the feeling that she knew them.

There were also men in Max's creations. With them, too, there was that moment of recognition, of knowing. She saw a very clever interpretation of Pan capering barechested among a gaggle of women, and she wondered just how Max had managed fashion the legs of the costume to look so _much _like hooves.... One was a character she did not know, another Egyptian, tall, thin, with the head of a strange bird like a heron or crane with an incredible blue and green mane of feathers. His body was, like the cat-woman, draped in white linen heavily accented with gold. Around his neck was a wide heavy gold, blue, and green collar that stretched from shoulder to shoulder and halfway down his chest.

There was another costume that bothered her, but not in the same way. The workmanship was exquisite, but it did not feel like Max's. This she recognized from the old silent movie _The Phantom of the Opera_. Red velvet streamed down him in a sweeping cape covering him except for his thin, elegant, red-gloved hands and face. When he spun his partner around in a graceful turn, the mask he wore was a grinning skull. There was something desperately sinister about that figure despite his stately grace. She avoided him when she saw him edging toward her in the crowd instinctively, the voice in the back of her head hissing something she did not understand.

She carefully studied each of her dancing partners as she continued to search, but she was pretty sure that none of them were Marshall. There was no chance of talking to anyone on the dance floor. The music pulsed like a giant heart, and only movement was possible. She'd chosen her current partner as a target to explore because he was wearing wizard's robes, and she felt as though that was a likely costume for her geekish partner, but when she'd gotten closer to this partner, she'd seen that his grey hair was no wig after all, and recognized him vaguely despite his halfmask as a clerk from ABQ PD. She finished the song, panting just a little. It was getting hot in the mask, and there was only a little time left before the call to unmask came.

_What happens if neither of us discovers the other? Who wins then? What do we do with a draw?_

She walked out of the ballroom doors and across the flagstone terrace where the hotel had its cafe during regular hours. The terrace led to a tiny swatch of grass ending at a large and elaborate glassed-in conservatory full of all sorts of exotic plants. Tonight, with the light of a full golden moon pouring down on it and after the closeness of the ballroom, it was irresistible.

_I'm just going to take a little walk through there to cool off some, and then I'll go back inside and take one more stab at finding him. If all else fails, at least he won't get to be a smug bastard about having found me when I couldn't find him...._

Mary's tired feet in their black leather boots carried her over the flagstones soundlessly, a shadow crossing the moon, even as she was thinking about taking the walk. She did not see the shadow that detached itself from the doorway of the ballroom to slide across the terrace after her.

---

_So much nicer in here. I can hear myself think._ Mary had reached the center of the conservatory, and there was a large fountain at its heart. She slipped the mask off her head and lay it on a nearby bench. Moonlight streamed through the glass roof of the darkened building. Tiny safety lights lined the paths at crucial points, but no illumination other than the moon was present. She took a deep breath as the cool air washed over her damp skin. She untied the cape, carefully folded it and laid it down with the mask. Then she walked over to the edge of the fountain and sat down on its ledge. She trailed her fingers in the cool water, felt the droplets from the spray patter on her cheek and arm at irregular intervals.

_Ahh...better. Much better.... _She closed her eyes and put her head back to enjoy the cool sensation. She felt perfectly peaceful. A few tendrils of her hair had escaped Max's chignon, and she raised a hand to push them back into the arrangement.

There was the merest sound of gravel on gravel, not more, really, than the sound of a rounded pebble clicking against another rounded pebble, but her feeling of peace was immediately gone. Her hand froze in its motion of adjusting her hair, her fingers trailing through the cool silk of the fountain pool clenched into a fist at her side. Every sense she had was suddenly buzzing and alert as if she'd grabbed a live electrical wire. Something hot and deadly uncoiled at the base her spine, and she could suddenly taste iron in her mouth as though she'd bitten her lip without realizing it.

_I know you're there. Whatever you are, I know you're there. Come out, come out.... _That voice inside her head laughed, and the sound of it would have made a sane man run gibbering in fear. Her hands resumed and completed their motions, and her eyes opened and languidly surveyed the area. She saw near the edge of the pool a pair of large hedge shears that some gardener had left tucked half under one of the large shrubs. _Edged weapon, should it become necessary...._

For a few more moments, there was no sound at all, only the increase of the tension inside her that told her she was not alone, that she was being watched. She shifted her position, stood and stretched, making she kept her motions languid as if she were unaware of the surveillance. _Of all the damn times to be caught without my clutch piece, but it just would NOT fit in this boot... Besides, I'm a gathering of every fucking cop in a hundred square miles. Who would be stupid enough to bother me here?_

She moved back toward the bench as though to pick up her cape and mask, getting closer to the hedge shears. Again, almost so soft as to be inaudible, she heard gravel click, this time across the circular opening. _Bastard has circled around somehow, is coming in from the other side. _ She whirled to face her attacker....and there was no one there. Inside her head, the other voice growled in frustration, longing for a face-to-face fight.

A warm gloved hand suddenly laid itself on the bare skin her shoulder, and she instinctively turned to swing, employing countermeasures to prevent herself from being seized. In the dimness of the moonlight room, a face of fear, the skull surrounded by the ornate costume of red velvet, grinned back at her, grasping her wrists in an iron grip even as she moved to attack. She struggled, trying to kick, but her assailant's leg was already there to block her. Inside her head, that other voice that had been with her since Max had slipped the torc around her neck howled. She wound up with one arm twisted behind her, lifting her slightly up on her toes. The other was held firmly at her side in an iron grip.

A low voice murmured in her ear, "Been trying to get you alone for a long time now, Marshal Shannon, but it ain't so easy to do. You and I, we got some unfinished business...." The hand holding her wrist slid up her arm in a terrible, intimate caress. The Red Death had her firmly in his grasp.

_This is NOT the way this evening was supposed to play out. _ Mary struggled in the grip of the red leather gloves.

The other voice inside her head was silvery sharp with fury, and again she tasted that metallic blood tang on her tongue. _Wait and trust. This is the calm before the all-consuming storm. We're not done yet....

* * *

_

**Aaaaannnddd....R&R. *g***

**About the costumes: **

**Unidentified Egyptian folk: The cat woman is Bast. The bird-headed god is Thoth. You can Google them and see images if you'd like.**

**The Red Death costume I have in mind is the one worn by Lon Chaney in the 1929 silent classic The Phantom of the Opera. You should be able to search for that, too, and see it in all its wonder and glory. The costume for that was, of course, taken from Edgar Allan Poe's wonderful short story which is referenced in the quote at the top of this chapter.  
**

**I don't own any of this stuff, btw.  
**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: And now, for Marshall's side of things....

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**

As I was walking up the stair,  
I met a man who wasn't there.  
He wasn't there again today.  
I wish, I wish he'd go away.  
~Hugh Mearns

* * *

Marshall had been waiting for the night of the Masque with eager anticipation. He'd chosen this year's costume with secret mirth and delight, knowing that there was no way anybody would be able to recognize him. It deeply satisfied his own personal need for the unusual, and he had to admit he felt a bit of kinship with the figure into which he'd transformed himself. Like this god, he was a keeper of knowledge, of science, and like this god, he all too often had to serve as a mediator, an arbitrator. He laughed to himself softly. _It's just as well I picked out one who's god of writing, too....I always get stuck doing all the damn paperwork...._

As he stood in the short line at the check-in waiting to show his ID and invitation, he wondered whether or not Mary was already inside. He felt a little thrill go through him at the thought of hunting her through the crowd of revelers. He had no doubts that he'd be able to pick her out of the mass of grotesqueries inside.

_Because she's Mary, no matter what. And I'd know her if she were surrounded by enough people to fill a football stadium, to fill a continent. Let her costume herself how she will, I'll find her._

He ran a hand over the distinctive features of his mask as a sudden burst of amusement, high and lofty, cold as moonlight traced through him. _Besides, one could say that secrets and hidden knowledge are my special domain tonight, after all...._

_---_

Bobby D. was working the check-in table. When Marshall pulled off his mask, Bobby D. laughed. Marshall crooked a brow in silent question, but Bobby D. just waved a hand. "Never mind. I'm not laughing at you. Trust me. You look great. Very nice costume. Are you cold in that get up?"

Marshall cocked his head and narrowed his eyes a bit. "No. Not really. Say....You haven't by any chance seen Mary come through have you?"

Bobby D.'s grin widened. "Well, now that you ask...._yes_, I have seen her, and _no_, I'm not telling you what she looks like."

"Not even a hint to help out a brother officer?"

Bobby D. shook his head. "Not a chance. I'd say you two are going to be about evenly matched tonight. Guess it's true what they say...birds of a feather, you two, every time." He laughed and nudged the cop sitting next to him who also grinned.

Marshall smiled a cool, distant smile and replaced the elaborate headpiece to his costume. He turned over Bobby's last sentence in his head like a faceted stone...._birds of a feather, hmm.... _ and he stepped into the pulsing heart of the room.

---

It hadn't taken him more than a minute or two to spot her. She was, as always, dominating her fair share of the room. He smiled as he studied her costume. His knowledge-filled brain had no problems identifying it immediately, and he was delighted by her choice. _Birds of a feather, indeed. That is the perfect costume for her. Nothing in all the things I imagined for her was as appropriate as this, although making her a Valkyrie would have been good, too...._ His brain took a brief and happy side trip through that particular fantasy again...._ She is the Morrigan in so many ways. She is an ass-kicking warrior queen through and through. And God knows she drives everybody around her including me to insanity and rage often enough. _

He watched the short tunic reveal flashes of firm, defined leg above the top of her boots, saw the powerful tone of her arms against the softness of black feathers, came close enough to admire the curve of her pale shoulders. His hands longed to touch the exposed flesh, to pull her into some dark corner, cast aside the masks and stroke and caress her. He wanted to dance with her as he saw so many other men doing, but he knew better than to declare himself in that way, knew she was hunting for him as he had been her. _Patience....patience....there will be a reward at the end...._

_How could she think I would not know her? For three years, I have watched her, studied her. I could draw her in perfect detail with my eyes shut. _His eyes behind the mask raked across the low-cut neckline of the tunic. _Although I have to say, tonight, certain attributes seem to be...accentuated....Not that I'm complaining mind you. _ _Nope. Not complaining at all. And after this dance is done...._ He smiled, his mind turning to lascivious thoughts of moonlight and Mary out of her costume, or at least most of it....

Almost as if she heard him, the eyes of her mask turned and locked with his for just a moment. He felt that click of recognition, and for a moment it was so intense he was sure she'd discovered him despite his care, despite the mask that hid his features, his eyes. It was a feeling of knowing someone on a profoundly-deep level, a level of kinship, of soul-sameness, as the silvery eyes of the ebony raven locked with his, as the beautiful head cocked quizzically, puzzled, and then it was over as she looked away, back to the man in the purple and gold wizard's robes in front of her. Marshall sighed. _I won't unmask her now. I will wait just a little longer, watch her just a little more. Besides, she's having fun, and I wouldn't take that away from her for the world. She gets so few chances to cut loose. _

He frowned as a party-goer in a replica of the Red Death costume from the 1929 Phantom of the Opera crossed his line of vision, sidled closer to Mary. There was something about that costume that bothered him. He shook his head a little to clear the slight humming, buzzing unease that had suddenly arisen when he'd seen the Red Death appear, but the sense of warning would not fade. Unwillingly, he took his eyes from Mary to look at the costume again.

It was beautifully made, and a very skillful recreation, to be sure. Every line and detail from the black hat and sweeping red plume and the red silk scarf beneath them to the red velvet cloak and doublet was correct. Only the hands were different. They were covered in red leather gloves. Marshall, a devoted classic movie fan, knew that Lon Chaney had worn no gloves allowing his pale bare hands to complement the grinning and horribly realistic skull of the mask. _And this guy shouldn't have tried to improve on a Master. What is it about that costume that has all my bells going off? He's just dancing, isn't he?_

Marshall continued to watch him, and he noticed that the Red Death was staying very close to Mary and that Mary was either deliberately or subconsciously dodging him. Marshall couldn't stop the little voice nagging inside him that was telling him he needed more information about this particular reveler. _Hmm.... Think I'll step back out to the ID table just a second. Maybe Bobby D. can tell me who this guy is._

_---_

Bobby D. was gone from the table when Marshall got back through the throng to it, but manning the table was another officer he knew.

"Hi, Sam," said Marshall, slipping his mask off. "Do me a favor..."

"No dice, Marshall. Bobby D. said you two have to fight this out on your own. He said, and I quote, 'The ABQ PD is not going to get embroiled in whatever pissing contest those two are having today' end quote."

Marshall threw back his head and laughed. "Bobby D. is a wise, wise man. But no. This isn't about that at all. I was curious about the guy in the Red Death costume. I wanted to know who that was."

Sam looked at Marshall suspiciously. "Which guy? What costume?"

"The Red Death costume. You know from Poe? From The Phantom of the Opera? You wouldn't have been able to have missed it." Marshall described the costume, and Sam flipped through the notes the check-in staff had made next to each party guest's name.

"Um....Marshall," Sam scratched his head, "we don't have a costume here that matches that description at all. Not one that's even remotely close. Show me this guy on the floor." Sam stood, Marshall pulled down his mask, and they stepped around the screen. That instinct in the back of Marshall's head was pulling him hard now, insistently, a brass gong being struck again and again in alarm.

Marshall scanned the dance floor, and he noticed two things immediately. The Red Death was gone, and, his heart stopped for just a moment with the realization, so was Mary. "Get whoever is in charge of security at this thing now." He stepped back around the security screen and wrapped his hands around the large blackshafted spear he had seen leaning against the wall.

---

"They didn't get out past me," said the cop who'd been manning the front doors. The security team was having a quick and furious meeting, and Bobby D. in his toga and golden halfmask had joined them. How had he gotten in? Who was he? What were his intentions? With as many law enforcement officers gathered as there were, safety had been assumed. Who in his right mind would attack an entire room full of cops?

_Somebody with a specific agenda. Somebody past caring. Somebody very, very good... _Marshall's blood was cold as it raced through his veins. Had he taken Mary, or was it a coincidence? They'd checked the restrooms, and she wasn't there. They hadn't stopped the dance yet. They didn't want to alarm people unnecessarily, especially over something that could be a misunderstanding.

"Maybe he just didn't get written down, Marshall. These things happen. We had a couple of big rushes, and maybe somebody got sloppy. He could be a date that slipped in without being recorded."

"Yeah, maybe. But you and I both know that he's not though, right?"

Bobby D. grumbled. "Okay. What do you want to do?"

"Do a sweep. What other areas are open in the hotel right now?"

Bobby D. thought about it. "Could've gone up the elevators or the main stairs. Could've slipped back through the kitchens. Could've gone out onto the terrace and out that way. We've had lots of people heading out to the terrace for a little air and coming back inside."

Marshall nodded, shifted his grip on the spear. "I'll go that way. Maybe even if he's gone, I'll find Mary there. Will you break up and sweep the rest of the area?"

Bobby D. looked at the other four men who nodded and split up. He turned back to Marshall. "You know you don't have a bit of evidence that this guy isn't just some party crasher or clerical error, right? Or that your partner didn't just...take a...personal interest... in this guy.... You and I both know she's going to be seven kinds of pissed off if you crash a private party of hers, Marshall."

Marshall listened to the whispering voice in his head, grimaced slightly. "I can't tell you how happy I will be if I'm wrong...."

---

Marshall slipped out onto the terrace and into the wash of moonlight. A feeling of calmness and power filled him almost immediately. _What the hell? What was that?_ A tingling, zinging awareness of the place he was in filled him. He suddenly knew that there was a couple hidden in the bushes beyond the far balustrade in the middle of a very private moment. A second later, he realized that he could actually see their faces as if he were standing there looking down at them. He shook his head to clear it and moved forward. _Won't be able to look that guy again in the eyes for awhile. He's supposed to be happily married...._

He paused as he reached the steps to scan the little garden. _Where is she? _Again that buzzing filled his brain, and without knowing how he knew it, he could see her standing in the middle of the glass conservatory by a fountain, her arm twisted at a painful angle behind her. There was a dual image to the odd vision. She seemed to stand in the dark shadow of a large bird with open wings. Behind her, holding her tightly, was the spectral grinning skull of the Red Death.

_No! _Marshall's grip on the suddenly heavy spear tightened, and he raced down the steps toward the glass house, moonlight gleaming off its silver head and the white linen of his costume.

---

Inside, Marshall wound his way immediately to the heart of the conservatory as if he'd been here a million times before. He didn't even think about it. It was if a map were laid out in his head for him with a red line marking the shortest path to Mary at the center. His leather sandals made no sound as he avoided the gravel-lined paths to cut through the plants themselves. The spear he carried seemed to dart forward of its own volition to part the greenery, opening a path for him to move through as he ducked branches and fronds.

Soon, the strange instinct that was driving him forward showed him an opening in the plantings where a large shrub had died behind others of its kind. He darted into the space and looked through the branches of the remaining cover to see the reality promised by his earlier vision on the terrace. The Red Death did indeed hold Mary pinned by one arm in a bruising grip. Marshall watched the gruesome figure lean down and whisper in her ear, saw her struggle, and he could feel her rising fury like a growing static electrical charge building in the air. Beneath his mask, the little hairs on the back of his neck were standing up. As he listened, the Red Death spoke.

"Yeah, been waiting a long time now, Marshal. You could almost say it has started to feel like an eternity...." There was a dry, rattling laugh that issued from the skull of the figure, and the red-gloved hand moved up and down Mary's arm in an obscenity of a caress.

"Who are you?" Mary demanded, no trace of fear lacing the hot fury in her voice.

That same rattling laugh came from the mask again. "Can't you guess? Or are there so many who would do you harm now that you have to make a list?"

"Face me, dammit. Face me in a fair fight."

"Fair? You want fairness? Like you gave me?" Anger now, white hot, hissed from between the hideous teeth of the skull, all traces of joviality gone and the hands that held her bit into her cruelly, spun her around so she was face-to-face with the nightmare.

"Fair, Marshal? What does your goddamn kind know about fairness? You took my family and you said it was for my own good. You took my home and you said it was for my protection. You took my name away, and then when there was nothing left to take, when you had drained away everything that made me _me_, Marshal Mary Shannon of the United States Marshal Service, WITSEC division, you let _them_ take my life with a bullet...."

Mary froze in horror. "_What_ the hell are you?"

"Now you're beginning to understand.... Just call me....the Ghost of Witnesses Past, Mary." And insane laughter echoed off the high glass ceiling.

_That thing...that is not a person...that...that is a real...that is a..._ Marshall's mind could not and would not wrap around the word. For all his study, for all his accumulated knowledge and abstract theoretical pondering of the supernatural, he simply could not accept what he was seeing. A deep voice, calm and serene as moonlight on a vast and slow-moving river came to him then and completed the thought for him, the same voice that had been guiding him all night, "_a ghost, yes, and an unhappy and deceitful one. One that will do your Morrigan harm if he can, and soon, too. So...."_

Out of patience and shimmering with blood-red rage, Mary the Morrigan cried out and loosened the grip the Red Death had on one hand. She struck out at the face in front of her desperately, caused him to stumble backwards a few critical steps as Marshall exploded from the bushes behind the ghastly scarlet apparition, the silver-tipped spear, his beautiful ibis-headed Thoth mask, and the jeweled collar flashing in the wash of moonlight as he emerged from the greenery. The three figures stood poised for a moment in a triangle, balanced as the forces driving them began to align on that last night of the ancient Celtic year when the boundaries between the living and the dead dissolved and the magic of Halloween filled the air.

* * *

**Some information for you about Thoth if you don't know much about Egyptian mythology:**

_**Thoth is an unusual god. Though some stories place him as a son of Ra, others say that Thoth created himself through the power of language. He is the creator of magic, the inventor of writing, teacher of man, the messenger of the gods (and thus identified by the Greeks with Hermes) and the divine record-keeper and mediator. He is also the great counselor and the other gods frequently went to him for advice. Thoth is considered a lunar deity and is often depicted wearing the lunar crescent on his head. **_

"**The Gods of Ancient Egypt" **

**He is also considered to be the keeper of secrets and hidden knowledge as a part of his record-keeping aspect, I suppose. Don't you think he sounds a bit....Marshall-ish? :)**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Your feedback has been tremendous. Thank you so much for all your wonderful comments and your encouragement with this story. I'm grateful that you have stayed with me as it has twisted and turned, that you, too, like Thoth and the Morrigan, and above all that you're still reading. You people rock. Special greetings to all my new readers. Welcome to what I privately call "the crazy train." (Ozzy don't sue me.)

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"Before you begin on the journey of revenge, dig two graves." ~ Proverb

"An eye for an eye would make the whole world blind."~ Mahatma Gandhi

"Revenge is a confession of pain"~ Latin Proverb quotes

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For a moment the three stood frozen in balance, and the only sound was the pattering of water into the fountain. Then the Red Death began to laugh. It was a sound full of insanity and menace, and Mary could feel chills racing up her spine even through the incredible anger surging through her.

"Well, well, lookit what we got here. Two for the price of one. You'll want to be leaving though, bird boy. My fight is not with you unless you force my hand."

Marshall shifted his grip on the spear and took a cautious step forward to stand between Mary and the ghost. "If your fight is with her, your fight is with me."

_Holy hell. That's Marshall? You mean I was looking at him half the night and I didn't even recognize him? What IS that costume?_ Again, Mary felt a flicker of deep recognition blaze up, that feeling like meeting an old acquaintance but not being able to retrieve the name.... She turned her attention back to the grinning skull in front of her. _More urgent matters at hand. Figure that out later._

The ghost opened his hands with a theatrical flourish. "I can just as easily end two of you as one, little bird, but again I warn you, my fight is not with you. Go away and live."

Marshall continued to block the ghost's path. "I think not. I don't know exactly what the hell you think she did to you but..."

The scarlet figure lunged forward, anger rolling off it in waves that were very nearly tangible. "Think? THINK?! I'll have you fucking KNOW that what I said is true! She was as much a part of my death as if she'd pulled the damn trigger herself!" The Red Death shook, plume quivering with the force of its emotions.

"Those are some pretty strong words coming from an anonymous figure hiding in a costume," sneered Mary who was edging toward the hedge shears she'd seen earlier. _Almost got them...just a few more feet... _The inner voice of the Morrigan urged her forward, and silver flickered at the edges of her vision as she felt every sinew of her being filled with a readiness to strike.

"I can satisfy your curiosity with two words. Daniel Morales."

Mary's careful progress toward her makeshift weapon stopped, and the Morrigan's voice silenced in her head. Marshall saw her color visibly pale, even in the moonlight. "Wh-what? What did you say? That's not possible..."

The Red Death took a gliding step forward, ignoring Marshall despite his presence with the long black spear. "I think you know it is. I think you _know_ it's me."

_Daniel Morales...it can't be... _Mary's mind raced back four years to the troubled young man who couldn't obey any of the rules of WITSEC, who had called death to his own door with his poor decisions and irrational behavior despite all she had done to protect him from himself and others.

His mother and father had brought him into the program with them when his own older brother had gotten mixed up with a local group of outlaws and turned killer. Daniel had lived in staunch denial. He'd blamed his parents, blamed the government, blamed everyone except his brother, especially when WITSEC had been forced to relocate the family so far from everything Daniel had known and held dear. He'd run away twice in the first month of their time in Albuquerque forcing Mary to hunt him and bring him home.

He'd gone so far as to contact secretly that brother he'd worshiped his whole life, despite all the warnings of law enforcement and his parents, despite all common sense and sense of self-preservation, and he'd told his murderous sibling where to find them believing that his brother would "rescue" him. Mary would never forget entering the tiny house to find them all lying close together in the living room where they had been made to kneel before being shot through the head twice, one by one. The coroner said that Daniel had been the last to die. Mary knew his brother who had become one of the creatures of nightmare would have appreciated the sick irony of that, of making him watch, of giving him hope that he would, at last, be saved, before turning the gun on him in the end. She'd always wondered if Daniel had understood what he'd done, had always prayed that somehow he'd been spared that at least....

"Daniel," her voice was weak at first, and she had to clear her throat, "Daniel, you know I tried to keep you alive. You know I tried to save you...."

The Red Death tilted his head as though listening to a far-away sound, then the skull shook sadly. "No. No, Marshal. I'm not listening to any more lies. He told me whose fault it all was before he did it. He explained why he wasn't going to take me. He said it was because I was just like them. A traitor. He wouldn't listen, you see. Even when I told him I tried to get away from them." His tone was petulant, childlike, a little kid denied a desired treat in the middle of a toy store, tantrum imminent. The effect of that voice from that face was somehow even more horrid. Suddenly, the malice came back. "And that's YOUR fault. Yours. So, I've been waiting patiently. And tonight is my chance. I was told. _Told._ Tonight is my night of vengeance. Say goodbye, Marshal." And he leapt up high into the air toward her.

---

The voice inside Mary's head screamed. It was not fear. It was the sound of metal tearing, of the fabric of reality being shredded in a brutal silver-clawed hand. Mary tasted blood in her mouth, and energy tingled through her arms and legs. As the phantasm pounced, the Morrigan melded with her, took over her already-battle-honed instincts. She hurled herself forward into the air to meet her foe, teeth bared, fingers curling with their gleaming tips.

They met and clashed before they could land. Mary felt a savage gladness singing through her as she struck out at the horrid face in front of her. She shrieked curses at it as she slashed with the claws of one hand while bringing her other fist across in a hard, fast cross. She was completely unaware that the curses falling from her lips were not English, not any form of any language that had been spoken in thousands of years....

As Marshall watched her fly toward her assailant, he found himself able to understand her perfectly, and despite the absolute seriousness of the situation he felt a thread of amusement that she should be cursing in an ancient language and that he should be able to translate it effortlessly. _No matter how weird it gets or what outside forces get involved, with us, I guess some things are always going to stay completely the same..._

Marshall began looking for some way to assist Mary, some way to strike at the Red Death, but the figures in scarlet and black were now circling and striking at one another in a blur of motion. _Too fast, too fast! I can't get in there to help her..._ That stately, tranquil voice came to him again, and suddenly he knew what to do. Stepping forward, he waved the spear slightly in a circular motion, and it seemed to him that the world took a deep breath and released it slowly. He looked around, slightly dazed. Mary and the Red Death were fighting at a speed that seemed more normal, more mortal to his eyes. The fountain's spray hung in the dim light of the conservatory like tiny shimmering diamonds flung skyward, hanging impossible moments at their zenith before beginning their downward descent slow as feathers gliding in an airless room.

The Red Death caught Mary in the abdomen with a harsh blow, and Marshall saw her bear her teeth, heard the hiss of her escaping breath. She stumbled back a few steps and hunched over, clutching her belly. Marshall stepped forward in alarm, but no sooner had the Red Death lunged after her to pursue his advantage than Marshall and he both learned it was a ruse. Mary nimbly stood and struck out with a strong kick, catching the grinning skull squarely. It was the Red Death's turn to fall back, black hat fluttering to the pebble-covered ground behind them.

But this was no mortal creature they fought, and it was not dazed a moment. The kick that would have disabled a human made the ghost of the pitiful deluded boy who had been Daniel Morales do no more than stagger backwards. He was back on Mary moments later, a deep and inhuman growl issuing from between the teeth of the death's head. The two struggled, and although Marshall looked for some opening to strike with the spear, he could find no moment when he did not fear he would hit Mary by accident.

Suddenly, Morales wrapped his hands around Mary's throat driving her to her knees. He began to squeeze painfully, and Marshall yelled, "NO!" He was moments from stepping in, from throwing down the spear, and grabbing the red specter, but suddenly Mary's eyes met his, and he saw her shake her head minutely. She glanced from Morales to the spear, and suddenly Marshall understood. He shifted his grip on it and prepared. Something was about to happen.....

---

As she fought, Mary reached deep down inside herself to that shimmering pool of black and silver, the source of the voice she'd heard all night, and she cried out for help. _I don't know who or what you are or even **if** you are, but I could sure use a little help here if you're real._

_Dark laughter tinged with silver bells.... "You know I'm real. Don't play that game. It honors neither of us. And you don't have to ask, daughter. Take what you need. I give it gladly. You are worthy. And also, that...abomination...offends me." _

Mary felt a mighty surge go through her, and despite the force the Red Death was exerting in trying to choke her, she suddenly looked up at it, and she smiled. The ghost of Daniel Morales, a thing undead and unafraid, strong and arrogant with that strength, had just enough time to register that something had changed, that the eyes of the human woman in front of him were not human at all, had gone silver somehow like tarnished mirrors before the rules of the game as he knew it dissolved like paper in water.

Mary pushed upward, broke his hold, hurled him backward through the air toward the place where Marshall stood waiting. Mary advanced on him, teeth still bared in that feral grin, eyes still mirror-silvered, and the thing that had once been a boy shrieked in rage and confusion.

"You should be dying. Dying! No. NO! I was told. Told! Promised!"

Marshall tossed the spear to her because it suddenly felt the right thing to do, saw Mary's hand snap out automatically for it although she did not turn her head to trace its flight.

"Yeah? Well, things don't always turn out the way you plan them, Daniel." She came a little closer, and the figure on the ground scurried backward just a bit, scuttling like an insect trying to escape as she spun the spear toward him.

"Besides, something you should have thought about before you started this," her voice changed, became something not her own, became deeper, older, differently cadenced. "The Queen of Death does not die, boy, especially not at the hands of the likes of you." And with a movement like a lightning strike, the silver head of the spear struck the place where a heart should have been. A piercing wail filled the glass conservatory, and a reddish ball of light appeared at the end of the spear.

Marshall felt an urging from the deep voice inside his head, and he stepped forward. He reached down and cupped his hands around the red ball of light, and he heard the shrieking rise in pitch and terror as it diminished in brightness. The orb struggled against his hands like a large firefly darting madly. He held it firmly, though, and its struggles began to diminish. Gradually, there was no more than a fading ember that weakly pulsated. He lifted that in his palm and closed his hand around it, extinguishing it completely. He heard the deep, calm voice in his head sigh. The water from the fountain suddenly began to fall at its normal speed again.

"_And so his heart must now be weighed and measured, will now be rewarded or devoured. It is not always a happy job to stand at the judging of the dead. I must go with him although the escorting of the departed usually belongs to another. Since I have him, I will take him to the judgment seat for better or worse now."_

Marshall's head was spinning. He felt the vast power lifting from his shoulders like a warm cloak being drawn away, and he removed the mask at last. He couldn't help but send his thoughts after it once, questioningly, _Thoth? Really?_

There was a sense of amusement and a momentary tingling return of that calm vastness. _"Of course. Who else?"_

_But...but...why?_

"_Because you chose me...because you chose us....and we chose you in return...."_

And there was a brief and lovely brightness like moonlight on white wings and the presence was gone.

---

Mary felt a savage gladness when the tip of the spear drove through her scarlet-clad enemy and bit deep into the hard-packed earth below the loose pebbles. The head of the spear was driven in all the way up to the shaft. She fought the urge to throw her head back and scream in joy at the defeat of her foe.

"_It feels good, does it not, daughter? Feels good to destroy that which tries to destroy you. To control that which tries to control you. For a thousand thousands, I have given those who are mine the might and the strength to end their enemies."_

_Yeah, it feels good. It feels....RIGHT. Like I was made for this._

"_Don't think you weren't. I recognize my own. I would never come to one who was not worthy." _Mary felt those tingles of power play across her, somehow soothing like a hand across her hair in a rough caress.

"_But now, Mary Shannon, it is time to step away from the battle. The foe is defeated, and there is one here whom you need and who needs you. His bird has flown, and the time is at hand for me to take wing as well." _ Mary felt the prickles of silver lightning begin to gentle, begin to die down, and she pulled the spear from the ground as she began to become aware of the room around her again. Marshall was staring up at the moonlight streaming through the glass roof as if he was watching something in the night sky, a look of pure wonder on his face.

"_A part of me stays with you, daughter of the Morrigan. A part of me has always been in your soul. When you need me, you will find me again." _Mary felt the last of the dark power inside her flutter, coalesce, take flight with the rush of a thousand dark wings, exploding up and out of her. The doors of the conservatory banged open, shattering one of the panes of glass, and Mary suddenly collapsed to sit down hard on the ground, exhausted by the incredible events of the evening.

Marshall rushed over to check on her, squatting beside her. "Mary?" His voice was hushed, quiet, awed. "Mary, are you okay? Look at me for a second, Mare." He put his hands on her shoulders, gently feeling her arms and face, looking, Mary knew, for wounds or injuries that had gone unnoticed. His eyes searched hers.

In response, Mary pulled him forward, unbalancing him to make him fall forward and collide with her. Tired and off his best game from the events of the evening himself, he tumbled into her, bracing his weight on his hands as best he could as she fit her mouth to his for a sudden and searing kiss.

_I'm alive and he's alive and I'm me and he's him and we're okay and I don't know what in heaven or hell or wherever all of this shit tonight was but I'm alive and he's alive and we're okay and that's all that's important....._

His hands slipped around her, pulled her into his strong arms, and a few moments later he leaned her back onto the path, leaned over her to deepen the kiss, become lost in it as the joy of survival and the desire and need that were always between them bloomed, his fingers tangling gently in the intricate braids of her hair. As the moonlight and the spray from the fountain fell down on them both, she couldn't remember a time when she'd felt more perfectly safe or more perfectly comfortable with anyone than here on a pebbled path next to a muddy spear that had slain a troubled spirit, the masks of all-too-active ancient gods of dead civilizations, and the pieces of a shattered window pane.

_---_

They were lost in the world that sprung up around them whenever they touched, whenever their lips met, and so they did not hear at first the sounds of Bobby D.'s concerned calls coming from outside the conservatory. Marshall had her beneath him; his hands had found the silver-decorated hem of Mary's tunic and were eagerly caressing her strong, bare thighs from knee to hip. His mouth was trailing hot, wet kisses over her arched neck, and her busy hands, still silver-clawed in their Morrigan gloves, had slipped under the loose linen of the upper part of his costume to trace lightly over the muscles of his back, making him shiver against her. It wasn't until Bobby was outside the main conservatory door that his presence registered.

"Dammit all to _hell_," groaned Mary, as she felt Marshall jolt in startled realization at the same moment. He laid his head against her shoulder for just a second, his hands tightening on her thighs as though he wasn't going to let her go.

"I am so tired," he said in a level whisper, "of being interrupted. I think we're setting some kind of new record for this."

Mary smiled and ran her hands over his hair to smooth it down gently. He looked up at her, and the frustration and desire gleaming in his eyes she knew were mirrored in her own. Unable to resist it, she pressed a fast kiss to his lips and pulled back. With a sigh, she said, "You're going to have to get up, you know."

Again, there was that dangerous tightening of his fingers on her legs, and this time he slid his palms to the inside of her thighs and started to bring them slowly upward. "Don't_ have_ to... Could let Bobby D. find us like this. Besides...." he looked at her and raised that brow, devilish. "I could argue that parts of me _are_ up...."

Mary was well aware of that, and it was part of her frustration. She ignored that and him, tried valiantly to ignore the path his hands were exploring slowly, slowly up her thighs and back down, inching ever closer to where she needed him....

"Look. You need to stop that right now or Bobby D. is going to have all kinds of stories to tell back down at the station house tonight." She grabbed at one of his hands, but he snatched it back out of her grasp and looked at her with an unholy light suddenly glittering in the depths of his eyes.

"You know what, Mare? Now that I think about it, I'm not sure you get to tell me what to do right now." A slow and totally evil grin spread across his face and he brought both of his hands up to pin hers by her head, leaning his weight into her.

"Wha—What the hell are you talking about?" She was distracted both by the fact that Bobby D. had to be somewhere nearby and by the impressive erection straining against her belly. _Oh dammit! Go the hell away, Bobby D.! I wonder if I could just yell out, "Hey! We're all fine in here. Don't come in. I'm about to fuck my teasing partner right through the floor. Nothing to see in here. Toodle-loo!"_

"It seems to me a bet was won tonight...." Marshall was nuzzling her neck, her ear, just beside her mouth.

Her mind was misting over, clouds before the moon. She couldn't think. "The bet? You're saying...you're saying you won? But you didn't unmask me...." He brought his inquisitive and distracting exploration down to the lowcut neckline of the tunic, to the exposed tops of her breasts. _Where is Bobby D.? What the hell is he doing? And do I care? No, I do not...._

Marshall laughed softly at her statement, and she felt the little puffs of air against skin that was growing increasingly hot. "Didn't I? Why do you think I came out here to the conservatory? I knew who you were all night long. I unmasked you five minutes after I arrived, sweet Morrigan Mary, sweet Phantom Queen..." He pressed a gentle kiss to the swell of one breast and looked up to meet her eyes. She felt a shiver trace through her at the heat she saw in his.

"Marshall, you have to let me up. Bobby D...."

"Yeah. Bobby D. _is_ coming. You're right. You're absolutely right." He pressed another kiss to the curve of her other breast, still gentle, still soft, still watching her reactions. "But before I let you up, I'm going to hear you say that I won." Her head fell back. She tugged to free her hands from his grip, but he tightened it fractionally, continued to press those little exploring kisses along the bodice of the tunic.

"Why? Why are you doing this now?" she managed.

He brought his mouth back up near her ear. "Because I know how these folk tales go. If you don't get a promise from the goddess before you let her go, she won't do what you want her to. She'll wiggle out of it somehow. You have to get her word while you have her in your power," he murmured, began to work his way slowly down her neck. _Kiss, nuzzle. Kiss, suck. Kiss, nibble, kiss. How does he know how to find every spot that makes my toes curl...Oh God, he's going to drive me out of my mind...._ She could hear the sound of footsteps on gravel coming closer.

"Okay...okay...Je-sus, Marshall...okay.... you win. You win. Just...please...please..." She wasn't sure what she was asking for anymore, and Marshall was smiling in triumph as he slid his mouth over hers for a last deep kiss. Her mouth voraciously sought his, and he met it with a need that matched her own and inflamed her further. For a moment, they allowed themselves free reign. He slid his hands from her wrists up to lace his fingers with her own, enjoying the way hers instantly gripped his tightly.

A moment later, they heard Bobby D. calling out from a short distance away, and they pulled away from one another. Their breath was coming irregularly, and as they stood up, they fought to calm down and to fix the damage done to their costumes by the battle and by rolling around on the pebbled path. Oddly enough, though, the costumes were not even so much as wrinkled. Both of them had seen far too much this night to even be phased by such a minor miracle, though, and they quickly continued to gather their masks and gear. Mary smoothed her hair into place, grabbed up her cloak and swung it around her, the great black wings of it settling just as Bobby D. and one of his fellow officers entered the heart of the conservatory.

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**So...that wraps up a few things. More to come. R&R, dahlings. Your responses keep me going.**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: At long last, it's back. I had to take a little hiatus for the holiday. I hope you had all the turkey you could stand and blessings of every kind.

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I'll seek a four-leaved shamrock in all thy fairy dells,  
And if I find the charmed leaves, oh, how I'll weave my spells!  
~Samuel Lover

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Bobby D. and the other ABQ PD officer stepped into the moon-flooded space cautiously, weapons drawn, scanning left to right.

"You two okay?" Bobby lowered the gun after he'd satisfied himself there was no immediate threat. Mary noticed he did not holster the weapon. _Good cop. He knows there's something off here._

Mary spoke. "Yeah, Bobby. We're fine. This guy followed me out here to the conservatory and tried to scare me, but I think I probably ran him off." _And this, boys and girls, would be known as the Edited for Television version...._

Bobby D. gestured to the broken glass from the conservatory doors. His expression was full of frustration. "This is your idea of somebody trying to give you a good scare? Come on, Mary. What really happened out here? Don't shut me out of this. If there's somebody dangerous on the loose, I need to get units rolling to take care of it now."

Marshall gently laid his hand on Bobby's shoulder. "Seriously, Bobby. He's long gone and no threat to anybody. I saw it when I got here. He was some lunatic looking for an easy prank tonight. Can you imagine anybody less appropriate for that than her?"

Bobby looked back and forth from Marshall's utterly sincere face to Mary in her Morrigan finery, and finally, he sighed. "Do you think he came here looking for you?"

Mary weighed the truth against her need to keep what had happened secret. "I think he came here with some kind of imagined score to settle. But really, Bobby, if this is the worst of it, I don't think you need to worry too much."

Bobby looked again at them both and then back to the shattered doors. "Like usual, there's something here you're not telling me. Second verse, same as the first. I'm going to call for a patrol of the area to see if we can find him. If we do, I'll want statements from both of you, okay?"

They agreed to come in should it become necessary, and all of them headed out of the conservatory back to the party. Mary longed to hang back a moment and talk to Marshall, but she knew Bobby was already suspicious enough. They paused on the moonlit terrace before going in. A huge burst of noise came through the doors, laughter and talking.

"Damn," Bobby said, "missed the famed unmasking. I was really looking forward to that. I had a bet going with two different people about those costumes tonight. Need to go see whether I won or lost, I guess." He looked at them for a moment, speculatively, and grinned. "Who won yours?"

"Our what, Bobby?"

"Bet, Mary Shannon, bet. Which bird flies away home with the prize?"

Marshall cut his eyes over to her with a steady gaze and a small, satisfied smile. She frowned down at the toe of her black boot, suddenly fascinated with the contrast of it against the pale stone.

"Ah, I see. Well. Be a graceful loser, Mary. Nobody likes a sore one."

She bared her teeth at him in something that was quite definitely not a smile. "Bobby, if you'd like to live to see if you can be a graceful winner, and not have several sore somethings yourself, I suggest you get back inside before I live up to this costume."

Bobby chucked and pulled the other policeman after him into the swirl of sound.

Marshall waited until they were gone, turned and headed for the side stairs of the terraced balcony. He glanced over his shoulder and said, "Come on."

She looked up from her contemplation of her shoe at him, startled. "What? Where?"

He cocked his head to the side a little and gave her a mischievous grin. "Do you really want to go back in there? We can. I mean, if you just _have_ to dance and socialize..."

She felt an answering smile on her lips and darted after him, dark cloak flaring. She slipped her hand into his waiting one. "Not on your tintype, buddy. Rather be attacked by a pack of dingos. Lead on. I'm right here with you."

He felt his pulse pick up with the combination of her hand and her words. _She is right here with me. _She couldn't see the smile on his face as they stepped down from the high bright terrace into the darkness, but she did feel his fingers tighten on her own as they slipped into the darkened garden.

---

He took her to a hidden seat off a path that his all-knowing encounter with Thoth had shown him earlier. It was in a shaded alcove, and as they approached the noise of the party faded away to a dim murmur of music and conversation. They sat down on the bench, Mary carefully fanning the cape out behind her, and they looked at each other in the dim light for a long moment, both of them uncertain of where to begin.

Finally, Mary spoke. "So..ah....is this how _you_ saw the evening progressing?"

Marshall chuckled softly before answering. "Oh, sure. Murderous ghosts are always a part of my party plans. Really, I think a party is always a little...dead...without them, don't you?"

Mary groaned and slugged him softly. "Uncalled for, Marshall. Just uncalled for." She was silent for a moment. "It really happened, though, didn't it? I mean, holy shit, Marshall, tell me that it really happened...." Unease and wonder were creeping into her tone as she looked out at the play of light and shadow on the garden in front of them. She could see the top of the conservatory glittering in the moonlight across the grassy space from them, half-hidden by the terrace.

Marshall reached down and pulled her hand into his, frowning for a moment as the sharp talons of the Morrigan glove pricked his hand, then sighing and carefully lacing his fingers with hers around the silver claws. "Mare, yeah, it happened. I can't give you any explanation for it, but I can confirm the event."

She processed the information silently, then she wet her lips with her tongue and forced herself to whisper, "And...and...did you...did your costume...was there anything...anybody else...with you tonight? I mean, I know that sounds really stupid and all, but..."

His hand squeezed hers, and he said in the same hushed tones, "No, yeah....I know what you mean. Yeah. Yeah. There was somebody else there tonight."

She turned to him, hand still clinging to his as though that link between them was somehow anchoring her to the world of reality, the safe, everyday world of witnesses and broken-down cars, of coffee in the morning and family fights in the evening. "Marshall, how? How is that even possible? What the hell was that? I heard _her_ in my head, _in my head." _She gestured with her other hand to the Morrigan mask which currently leaned next to the bench on graveled path right next to the mask of Thoth. The two masks seemed to be staring back at them in amused watchfulness.

Marshall nodded slowly, turning the situation over in his head. "I don't know how," he said finally. "I did ask _him_ why, though." He tore his eyes away from the eyes of the mask to look down at Mary.

"Well, don't keep me in fucking suspense here. What did he say?"

"He said it was because we chose them. And then they chose us back. That's all he said before he left me, but there was this sense of total truth about it." He shifted on the bench to face her. "Mary, when you saw that costume, how did you feel?"

Mary thought back to the first moment she'd looked up into the case and seen the Morrigan shining like a dark star. "I felt like I had to have it, like it was a part of me already."

Marshall was nodding. "Felt the same exact way. In fact, I went looking for a costume of Thoth, and a friend referred me to this guy Max who was supposed to be good, and lo and behold, there it was, just exactly as I'd imagined it from the first moment I opened the invitation in the office."

Mary shook her head, glanced back at the Morrigan and Thoth where they rested together companionably, almost as if they, too, were conversing after their adventurous evening. "It was just so strange. I've never felt anything like it before...."

"But was it a bad strange?"

"No....not exactly. I don't know how to describe it. It was more like, something familiar coming home. How about for you?"

Marshall nodded. "Exactly. That is it exactly. I wasn't ever afraid of him. The only time I was afraid was when I thought Morales was going to kill you." He took his free hand and gently cupped her face. "That was the only real scare I got tonight. When I realized that he had followed you out there and that you might be in danger." He traced his thumb along her bottom lip.

Mary's heart fluttered like something wild and winged searching for escape, and she forced a smile. "Aww. Aren't you sweet? You were worried about me? An ass-kicking chick in a get-up like this? My fashion sense alone was enough to devastate him...."

He did not smile, refused to play and lighten the mood. "My heart nearly stopped when I looked back out on the floor and both of you were gone. Then when I got into the conservatory and saw he had you pinned, when I heard what he was saying, everything inside me just went frantic. I thought for a minute I was going to lose you, Mary." His hand tightened on hers. "The whole world was just ashes and dust."

Mary could not seem to swallow around the lump that had arisen in her throat. She pulled her hand from his and wrapped her arms around him, drawing him to her. She could feel him shaking ever so slightly. "Hey...hey...it's okay. He didn't get me. He is gone for good. Morrigan and I nailed him, and then you and Thoth sucked him off into Never-Neverland somewhere. We won. Good guys, game point."

He squeezed her tightly, his head resting on top of hers for a moment, just relishing the feel of her there tucked in his arms, warm in the coolness of the night. _She's safe. She's really here and really all-well with me. _. The wind rustled through the few dry leaves remaining on the trees in the garden, and the thinnest thread of a whisper floated to him in the sound.

"_A wise man takes advantage of all the opportunities life places in front of him, my friend...."_

The susurration of the leaves stopped, and his eyes turned over to the masks for a moment, and although it was probably only a trick of the moonlight, he could swear they winked. _Well, never let it be said that I can't take a hint...._

He brought his hands up and gently cradled her face between them, tilting it up from where she had pressed it against his chest and taking a moment to enjoy the moonlight on her features. Her eyes met his, and her lips turned up in a soft smile, a little uncertain, one he saw all too infrequently, one he could not resist. He angled his head, eyes still on hers, and he lowered his mouth to hers slowly, slowly, almost as if she would disappear at any moment. _And maybe she will...maybe she is a thing of magic and faerie dust after all and I'm just hopelessly bewitched...._

He felt her hands slide up to his shoulders as his lips touched hers softly, softly, as gentle as the brush of a rose petal across silk velvet. Their eyes watched the sensation of the contact shimmer and slide like bright dancing sparks through the other.

Again and again he pressed his mouth to hers in that sweetest and least demanding of kisses, a kiss to awaken an ensorcelled queen in a story, a kiss to break an old, old spell. Mary could not look away from the bright blue of his eyes, was caught in the shimmering reflection of the stars and the moon she saw there, and she felt the tiny elf-bolts of the kiss all the way down to her toes which curled inside the black leather of their boots.

Who was the last man to hold her hand in the moonlight? When was the last time any man had kissed her like this? Had taken the time to woo her, to offer her any sweetness or beauty before demanding heat and fire? When was the last time she'd permitted any man to try?When was the last time she'd allowed any man more of herself than the fast throw-and-go, the burn to sate the need? _Marshall, Marshall, what magic is this that you're weaving? I could get used to this... _One hand slid up into his hair as she leaned closer into him with a soft little groaning sigh, her mouth opening against his, her eyes at last fluttering closed.

He delayed accepting the invitation just a moment more, gently sucking her bottom lip and releasing it. He moved away from her parted lips and looked down at her for a moment, wanting to fix this image of her in his mind. Her mouth was ripe and wet, her eyes were closed, her fingers were tangled in his hair and gripping his shoulder, and she waiting....._ Waiting for me, for my kiss. _Something powerful moved inside him, and he leaned back down hungrily.

She felt the difference in his kiss immediately, felt it in the hands that ran down her shoulders to encircle her body and pull her closer to him, and she was ready for the change, felt something fierce within her respond. She met the thrust of his tongue with an answering parry of her own, and for a time, the sweet battle waged slowly back and forth, both of them winning.

He broke the kiss with a groan, pressing his mouth to her neck above the torc. "Mary..." The one word encompassed his entire universe, and the longing in it made her both weak and greedy.

"Come on," he said, pulling her to her feet, both of them unsteady, clinging to each other.

She blinked in confusion, and then her mouth curved into a seductive smile as she pressed her mouth to his neck before whispering in his ear, "Come where? You know me... I'll _come_ anywhere you want me to, Marshall." His eyes swept closed at the images her husky innuendo drew in his fevered mind, and he leaned down, unable to help himself, drawn by the temptation of her mouth, her words, by his need to taste her, and he took her lips with his.

He pulled back again. "We need to...to.." _What was it again? I had it a minute ago...but I have to know, I have to taste... _ And then his mouth was exploring the satisfying pale curve of her throat, the hollow there near her collarbone between the heads of the silver ravens. Every instinct in him was urging him to back her toward the bench... _No. We are not going to do this outside on a cold stone bench hiding behind some shrubs like teenagers. I want...I want... _His hands were sliding up to span her ribs just beneath her breasts, and her moan of response made his mind begin to turn in dangerous circles.

"We are NOT doing this on the ground like animals," he finally managed, and he turned loose the grip he had on her, stumbling back a little. Her eyes tracked him, hot, gold and hungry, and the need in them was almost the undoing of his good intentions.

"So lead on, brave warrior," she said, with just the barest hint of a smile. "But for the love of God, get us there quickly...."

---

They came around the building to the parking area, swaying a little bit almost as if they were tipsy, impatient with every delay. Twice before they'd rounded the corner from the garden they'd stopped to tangle themselves together, both momentarily easing the need they felt and somehow at the same time sharpening it into a razor-keen agony. They'd had to stop holding hands and touching once they had emerged from the darkened garden, and even the tiny distance between them felt like an intolerable insult.

Marshall's truck was being brought around by the valet, and every second it took to get it there was an eternity. They stood looking deep into each other's eyes, unaware of the movement of other people around them, small comments passing back and forth, the inconsequentially earthshattering conversation of lovers. Mary rested her hand on his arm, his shoulder, his chest, light touches as they talked, and the sparks those little gestures caused danced in his eyes.

"Going to make you pay for this, Mare." His eyelids fluttered closed briefly as he savored the feeling of her fingers on his skin.

"Pay for what?" She grinned and ran her fingertip across the ornate collar of his costume making sure to catch the skin of his neck as she did so.

"For--for being a tease. For touching me when you know I can't touch you back, for continuing to twist me up when you know I could devour you right here on this sidewalk right now. Going to get you home and pay you back, yes indeed."

"Ha!" she laughed, incredulous. "Me, the tease? That's rich! When you...when Stan called and you....and then with Brandi and the door....and then out in the conservatory when you...when you were..."

He grinned and stepped closer to her, dropped his voice to that timbre that made her want to climb him like a cat up a tree. "You seem to be having problems finishing some of those sentences, Mary. I wonder why? Whatever are you thinking of?"

_Thinking of his mouth on my breast, hot and voracious, how it had oh. my. God. felt. when he'd looked up me with sky blue eyes gone black and smiled before he opened his mouth and...and..._

He leaned in to whisper in her ear, "When I think about it again, there are all kinds of ways to get payback....."

She looked up at him with a little smile of her own, her breath coming a little unsteady from both memory and anticipation, "Better remember your own words, Marshall. Here comes our ride."

---

Stan and Eleanor came down the front steps of the MorningStar in time to see Marshall and Mary standing and waiting for Marshall's truck. They stood for a moment near the great revolving door and just watched the two Marshals together. They saw Mary's little touches and saw Marshall duck his head to whisper in her ear. They saw the scorching glances the two gave each other as they spoke and as they got into the truck.

When Mary and Marshall were safely ensconced in his truck and had pulled away, Stan and Eleanor walked down the stairs and over to the valet stand themselves. Stan handed the valet his claim stub and for a moment longer they stood in companionable silence. Eleanor adjusted her coat over her costume. It was a bit chilly out tonight, really.

After a long moment, Stan broke the silence. "About damn time."

Eleanor sighed. "I had begun to think we were going to have to lock them in the storage closet for a night or something."

Stan snickered. "And even then, you know, it might have been one of those, 'Two go in but only one comes out' scenarios."

Eleanor laughed a little at the mental picture. "Yeah. Better that they got to it on their own."

"If they can keep from screwing it up."

"Yeah. Well. We'll hold the broom closet in reserve." She laced her arm through his and leaned against his shoulder. Stan's car arrived and they walked down together.

* * *

**And yes, there will be key lime in the next chapter. As usual, you know I have to work my way up to it. I'm working on it now, so maybe this will be a double-dip weekend. R&R.**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Everybody got your oven mitts and your key lime pie forks? Good.... Oh yeah, and um, M. Lots and lots and lots.

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**

The iron tongue of midnight hath told twelve; lovers to bed; 'tis almost fairy time. ~William Shakespeare

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Marshall drove across the deserted streets of late-night Halloween Albuquerque with speed and recklessness Mary seldom saw in her cautious, methodical partner outside of a high speed pursuit. After he skated through the third light changing from yellow to red, she laughed at him outright.

"In a hurry, Marshall? Where's the emergency?"

He glanced over at her, and he took one hand briefly from the steering wheel to caress her cheek. "Looking at her, I think," he said with a crooked little grin. His eyes locked with hers. _Well, doesn't he know how to say the damnedest things..._ He withdrew his hand suddenly and made a sharp turn, completely ignoring a stop sign. She couldn't believe it.

"Marshall," she said, torn between annoyance, arousal, and amusement. "Slow it down. Jesus. Having narrowly avoided death earlier tonight, I'd really like to not get dead on the way home."

He grinned his little boy grin and glanced at her again before running another stop sign. "Mare, I'm just obeying orders."

"Obeying orders? Orders from who?"

"I think you mean from whom, but given that we're doing 65 in a 40 mph zone, we'll let the grammar lesson pass...."

"Dammit, Marshall..." Her growl was in earnest, and he laughed in delight at her irritation and at the way she was holding on to the door handle as he flew through a light that was at least this time green and turned onto his own street.

He brought the truck to a stop outside his house and killed the engine. Unable to resist the scowl on her face, he pulled her across the center console and kissed her quickly, satisfied beyond measure at the feel of her instant response. He released her and watched her flicker her tongue out over her lips as if she were tasting him there, a gesture that almost made him grab for her again. _Patience. Patience. Just another minute or two more...._

"Your orders, milady. You were the one, I think who told me I'd better get you here quickly, weren't you?"

A smile that was pure seduction slid over her mouth and she unfastened the seatbelt and shifted toward him. "Mmm...How nice. And do you always do ..._everything_ you're told....Marshall? I do so love a man who can...follow directions...." Her voice was a purr, a trill, a curling stream of auditory sex brushing against him. She extended the silver claw of one gloved index finger to trail it down his exposed arm, talon tracing a lazy-figure eight pattern as her eyes locked with his.

She saw something flicker in his eyes, something troubling, and for a moment, he just looked at her. Then he leaned back over the console toward her. He brushed his lips across hers lazy, seeking, opening her mouth with his own. Suddenly, as if someone had thrown a switch, there was nothing lazy about the kiss, nothing uncertain, and Mary felt her mind happily shut down. _God...want this...need this...more, please..._

He pulled back just far enough away to part their lips and whispered, "Don't make that mistake, Mary. Don't confuse me with those other guys you bring home and use up. This can be whatever you need it to be, whatever gives pleasure to us both, but at the end of the day, I'm still your partner, your equal. I'm not going to let you pretend I'm a play toy you'll use tonight and cast aside." And he pressed a hard, fast kiss against her lips and sat back. "You decide right now whether that's what you're looking for tonight. Because I think we probably better both know it before we get out of this truck."

Mary sat in a daze for a moment, her mind trying to process the words he'd just pressed to her heart along with that kiss. _A partner. An equal. I've never had...Never thought about... _

_Haven't you though? Haven't you thought about it a hundred tiny times looking at him, being with him? Didn't you think about it the other night, that being with him, just watching movies was more fun than sex with the last five guys you've had? So what's the hangup?_

_This is more than sex, this is more than my body, this is...this is..._

_This is nothing he doesn't already have. This is just you realizing that you can have the watching the movies...and the making-out on the couch, too._

_But I've never, ever had that....and what if I screw it up...and what if I destroy what I have with him...and what if we can't be friends and partners and...and..._

From deep inside her, she heard the black-silver broken-bell voice of the Morrigan, a reverberation more felt than heard. _"Child, don't be a fool. Don't let fears paralyze you. Take your happiness with two greedy hands and cut down anyone who stands in your way. Trust me. You'll regret it for all time if you don't."_

All of her contemplations took no more than two or three silent minutes, but Marshall sighed, and was reaching for the keys. "Okay. I'll take you home, Mare. I get it. It's alright. Some things are not meant to be, no matter how much we may want them, I guess."

She reached out and grabbed his hand. He looked at her quizzically, a sad little smile on his face, and Mary realized he was expecting a rejection speech. "Marshall," she began.

"No, Mare, look. Make it easy on yourself. Your silence said it all. We just got caught up in the moment. It's okay if you don't want..."

She laid her finger across his mouth. "Oh, Marshall, you silly, silly man." She leaned over and she kissed him, gently, questioningly. He remained still, neither resisting her nor encouraging. He looked at her with troubled eyes as she pulled away. "I want, Marshall. I want very much."

Hope flickered in his eyes, but she saw him pull back, still hesitant. "What does that mean to you, though, Mare? I meant what I said. I can't be one of your disposable guys...I....it...you matter too much..."

She felt her heart spread wide wings and flutter. "Not disposable, Marshall. I promise. No one-night stand. How could you be? You're...you're...." Words failed her as they so frequently did in situations requiring delicacy or diplomacy. _Dammit, this is not my gift..._ "Dammit, Marshall, you're my _partner_."

And he heard in that word everything he had hoped to hear from her and never expected to receive. He knew her well enough to know that such an admission, even framed in such an unusual way, had taken tremendous effort from her. He reached out and cupped her cheek. "Yeah. That I am. And I always will be, Mare. For as long as you'll have me." And he leaned over and he kissed her, soft, sweet, gentle, a promise in it that she felt all the way through her.

He pulled back, grinning, and she looked at him with a smile of her own, not quite understanding the sudden surge of happiness in her heart. "Idiot," she murmured, but it was an endearment, and she pressed her lips back to his.

"Only...for...you...." he murmured between kisses, and then, for awhile, there were no more words. Eventually, the want began to shimmer between them again, and kisses began to be insufficient.

Mary broke away and cast a considering look at Marshall's house. "You know what?"

He looked at her with a perfectly deadpan expression. "No. What? Tell me." He pressed a kiss to the side of her mouth.

"Stop that. It's distracting. I hear that some people actually don't do this on floors, against doors, sitting on benches, or in the cabs of trucks with horrible poking plastic dividers between them. At least not all the time."

"Reeeeally? Fascinating. I blush to ask it, but where do they do this?" His hands slid down her arms, around, seeking some way to embrace her, but it really wasn't easy sitting like this....

"I've heard, and this is just a crazy idea, I know, but I've heard that some people actually use beds for this sort of activity."

"Wow. Never would have thought of that. Beds." He nibbled on her neck thoughtfully. "You know what?"

She groaned and tried to formulate a response. "W-what?"

"It just so happens that I have a bed." He brought his mouth up to her ear and she felt his smile before he huskily whispered, "Wanna go try it out?"

"Oh God yes. I thought I was going to have to club you over the head and drag you in...."

He chuckled. "Let's save that particular variation for another night, okay?" He kissed her one last time, slid out of the vehicle, and was opening the door for her almost before she'd registered his absence. They held hands and raced up the steps for the door.

---

Inside, he barely had time to close the door and lock it before she was pressed against him. He felt his back hit the door, but all he registered was the full, warm curvy weight of her there at last. He wrapped his arms around her waist, and he sighed a happy little sigh as her mouth attacked his. For a short, blissful while, he allowed his hands to roam beneath the cape as their lips feasted.

"Thought... you didn't...want to...do...this...against any...doors..." he murmured between kisses.

She made a soft growling noise and he felt those silver-tipped claws of hers trace over his chest. "Don't know...this door is growing on me...."

"No..." he broke off the kiss, ignoring her mewling little noise of protest and his body's own indignant outcry as he peeled her back from him. "Come on. Bed. Just down the hall. No lines, no waiting."

"Spoilsport," she murmured as he pulled her by the hand.

"Be worth your while. I promise."

Once they were in his room, she twined back against him insistently. "So impatient," he breathed against her ear, walking her back step by step towards the bed.

"Want you now, Marshall. Need you now. Come on, dammit. Enough is enough."

He grabbed her grasping hands and brought them up to kiss them, palm first and then the backs through the black gloves. "Mare, we only ever get one first time. Let's do it the right way. Let me love you. You'll get where you want to go, I promise." He smiled, and it was full of pleasures, full of hints of wicked things she wondered suddenly where her straightlaced partner might have discovered.

_Okay. I'll play this game. I'll let him have his way. For now. But when I get tired of it...._ Silver and black lightning danced behind her eyes and she smiled, nodded. "Okay, Marshall. Slow and easy it is."

He chucked softly as he stepped up to her. "Now I didn't say anything about easy, did I?" And he bent her back into a kiss that left her mind spinning.

He pulled the gloves off her, and Mary was surprised at how good it felt to have the cool air of the room against her arms. Next he untied the cape and she heard and felt the glossy black feathers sweep away from her, trailing down her arms in a soft caress as it came away. He hung the cape from a hook near his closet door.

He urged her to sit back on the bed, and he removed the black boots, his strong hands lingering on her calves much longer than necessary. He looked up at her from where he knelt on the floor at her feet, and he ran his hands up her legs, under the edge of the tunic, over her strong thighs, and back down to rest on her knees. She watched him breathlessly, wondered how far he would go, locked her golden gaze with his blue one, and she deliberately let her knees fall open, shifting one now-bootless foot out, the invitation unmistakable.

He smiled a little, and his hands made another slow tour of her thighs, fingertips finding her hipbone and coming up to trace the edges of the silver and black lace. She tossed her head slightly, the gesture of impatience, and looked at him. Would he or wouldn't he? Those slow-moving digits followed the edge of lace they'd discovered inward as if he were blind and had to learn her by touch. He lowered his head and he kissed the skin of her inner thigh just above the knee. He tilted his head to the side and laid it there on her knee, watching her as his fingers crept slowly, maddeningly down both sides of the underwear. He had to be only inches from touching her. He began to make tiny circles with his fingertips.

"Marshall..." she groaned.

"Right here," he whispered. His hands did not speed up or change course in the least.

"You goddamn tease," she growled at him, breath coming faster in frustration, waiting for his hands to lower that last tiny distance and...and... _Touch me. Oh fuck, touch me, please. _Her hips moved restlessly on the bedspread.

He laughed low and husky, and she felt the vibrations of it like another caress. "Well, I think there was some payback owed for earlier tonight...but...I don't want to be a tease, Mare. How about this? This better?" The fingertips of one hand brushed lightly across the crotch of her panties, and she groaned.

"Marshall..." The pressure returned, another light caress, slower and more lasting than before, and she arched against the hand. "Touch me...Need you to...."

"Jesus, Mary, you're..you're... so wet," he murmured harshly, pressing his face against her thigh. She felt him kiss her there, felt his hand leave her. He grasped her hips and pulled her toward the edge of the bed, flipping up the edge of the tunic as he did. She watched his eyes darken as he saw the black and silver panties against her pale skin. He rose slightly on his knees, tangled his hands in her hair and pulled her mouth down for a hard hungry kiss. She gave herself to it, clutching at his shoulders, pouring her need into the meeting of their lips, and she wanted to scream when she felt his fingers sliding against the midnight satin again, seeking, probing, caressing.

One hand grabbed her hip and then one of his clever fingers slid underneath the satin to touch the slippery aching core of her, and she fell back against the bed, breaking the kiss with a little cry. He knelt back down between her knees, and she felt the press of his open mouth against her abdomen, the light nip of his teeth against her thigh. And all the time, that one relentless finger was sliding, stroking, circling, teasing, ramping her higher, winding her tightly. He withdrew his hand, and she moaned at the loss. He hooked his index fingers in the waistband of the silver and satin lingerie, and meeting her eyes, drew it off her as she raised her hips for him. He tossed it to the side.

His eyes still hot on hers, he lowered his head. She could not breathe as she watched him and all she could think was _pleasenowpleasenowpleasenow._ The first touch of his tongue against her made her cry out and grab at his hair. He delicately circled her once, then twice. Her body arched for him, a perfect bow. He fluttered his tongue over her in gentle, tiny licks, and she was rocking her hips against him and promising him agonizing death and pleasure beyond his comprehension in the same breath. He laved her in strong strokes, and she was wordless, mindless, a creature of pure sensation.

Marshall could not stop. Her reactions amplified his need to taste her, to give her more pleasure. As she writhed beneath his mouth and his hand, he only wanted to see her become further abandoned. It was like a fever, a madness burning in him, and every tiny sound she made, every desperate hitch of her hips against his mouth fed it. He slid the tip of one finger around the opening of her, and she cried out, hips bucking, eyes glazed and meeting his. He thrust his finger deep into the heat of her, the sensation of her contracting around him almost more than his self-control could stand, and even her curses faded away into keening as she teetered there on the brink.

"Go over, Mary. Come for me." He wanted it more than he'd ever wanted anything, wanted to know the taste of it, the feeling of it when she lost control. He slipped another finger inside her and he sucked the tiny swollen bundle of nerves between his lips. She looked down at him to see him watching her intently as he suckled and laved her, and she was instantly in climax, her soul flying through cloudless skies on strong black wings as she screamed his name, fingernails scrabbling against the gems of the heavy collar he still wore.

When she became aware of the world again, he was lying beside her holding her gently. He pressed a kiss to her mouth full of need and longing, and she returned it, fingers coming up to tug at the linen of his costume. She smiled against his mouth.

"What?" he asked.

"Once again, too damn many clothes..."

"Well, I _was_ in the process of taking care of that when I got sidetracked..."

"Mmm..." She kissed him. "So let's see about it now."

They stood up and between kisses divested each other of their costumes rapidly. The heavy collar was laid aside. Mary's tunic was unlaced and slipped to the floor. The linen of Marshall's joined hers soon thereafter and then only his boxers and her black bra remained. The silver ravens of her torc shown about her throat. Marshall stepped close and studied the silver lace and black satin confection. He ran a fingertip gently across the exposed swell.

"Beautiful." He cupped her breast in his large palm, tracing his thumb across her nipple. He saw it contract, rising beneath the fabric and he heard her indrawn breath. "Absolutely beautiful." He lowered his head and closed his hot mouth over her through the satin. Her knees went weak and she grabbed at his head, his shoulders, clinging to him, holding him to her for more of the delicious feel of his mouth on her. They turned step, step, step, and they fell back against the bed together. He worked the fastening of the bra and pulled it from her.

Marshall paused and took a moment to look at her. Tendrils of her hair had escaped the elaborate updo to frame her face, and with the silver torc still gleaming around her throat and her eyes hot and inviting, he had never seen anything more sensual or alluring in his life. "You are every fantasy I've ever had."

"Not yet," she purred and she flipped him over. "But I'm going to be." She kissed his mouth, his throat, scraped her teeth lightly over his Adam's apple, delighted to hear him groan. He brought his hands up to twine them into her hair as she kissed her way down his chest. She lapped at his nipples, watched him writhe as she skimmed one hand down to trace the shape of him through the boxer shorts._ Pretty boy, pretty, pretty boy, going to enjoy you, going to make you come all to pieces....Owe you that..._

"Mary..." Marshall's voice was hoarse, choked as he watched her head move lower, felt her lave his navel in a hot, wet kiss. Her hand slipped beneath the boxers, and his head fell back, and the bliss of her touch, of _Mary's touch,_ blanked his mind. The next thing he knew, his boxers were gone, and he felt the sudden rush of her hot breath on him, intimate as the continuing caress of her fingers. She looked up at him and smiled, and he was almost undone by the feral goddess he saw.

She lowered her head and he felt her lips press against him, felt the tip of her tongue flicker out to drag across the engorged tip of his erection, and he hit his limit. They had played and teased, been aroused and then denied too long for even his formidable control. He pulled her up his body, ravaging her mouth with his own, and rolled her beneath him. Some slight voice of reason remained, and seconds later he forced himself to pull away from her for a moment, and he was rolling to the side reaching toward his bedside table with a curse when she grabbed his hand and pulled him back to her.

"On the pill. And safe otherwise."

Marshall looked at her, need warring with concern. "Are you sure? I don't mind it." He ran his fingertips gently over her cheekbones.

She smiled and kissed him softly. "I do." She could feel the steel length of his erection lying against her thigh. _Want him. Need him now. Come on, Marshall. _She slid one leg up his to hook around his in invitation, arching her hips slightly under him.

He needed no further urging. She could see the naked need in his eyes. One hand gripped her hip and he slid home, pressed deep inside her. They paused, each wanting to simply savor the feeling of connection, of this final new joining and the utter _rightness_ of it. The wonder of it shimmered in their touch and in their kisses.

Marshall began to move with slow, deep thrusts. Mary slipped her hands up his back to grip his shoulders, arching back under him, meeting his movements with her own. He kissed her exposed throat, her collarbone, her breast, reveling in each sound she made, each groan he pulled forth, every one pushing him closer to the edge, his brain only able finally to circle her name as a litany, a chant, as her felt her shudder beneath him in orgasm, tightening down on him as the contractions pulsed through her and destroyed them both.

---

Marshall drifted back into awareness with Mary's hands tracing little circles on his back. He smiled against her neck. "Gonna move in a minute, I swear."

She laughed softly. "Did you hear me complain? Did I complain?"

He grinned, and kissed her softly. "Yeah, but I know you, Mary Shannon. It's coming, it's coming..."

She shifted her hips beneath him gently, ran her hands down to cup his bottom, unable to resist the double entendre. "No, Marshall, you idiot, that was a minute ago... Pay attention."

He laughed outright, and pushed up to his elbows. He studied her face, smoothing back the stray strands of hair plastered to her cheek and forehead. "Mmm. Worried I missed it, are you?"

She grinned, sassy and satisfied with herself. "Well, if you must go around making silly statements...."

He kissed her, a thorough, slow kiss that made her sigh happily when he was done. "Don't worry, Mare. I think it's safe to say I figured that one out without explanation. Thanks."

"Just checking," she said with a smirk. "You know, anything I can do to be helpful in that regard..." her voice broke off with a little gasp as he rocked his hips against her, and she suddenly realized the length of him inside her had gone from half-hard to ready again.

"Anything, you say?" He whispered the question in her ear, flicked his tongue against it, flexed his hips again. "'Cause now that you mention it, there might be _something _after all...."

_I don't know how he did that and I don't care and thank you to whoever is responsible for that little bit of Halloween magic. Oh what a treat to find in the candy basket tonight... _Her mind simply clicked off as he proceeded to show her just how closely he was, after all, paying attention.

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**Okay. So there were no phone calls or interruptions this time. Hope the pie was up to your demanding standards since there have been numerous requests for it and people who can't sleep for lack of it. :) Love to you all, darlings. R&R**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: I know you think I've forgotten about their little wager, but like everything else with my writing, it takes me time to get there..... BTW. SERIOUS key lime M-age here. So if you don't like that, better self-edit parts of this chapter, folks. You know once I get them in the sack, I can't get them out. Bad me, bad, bad me....

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**

kisses are a better fate  
than wisdom.  
~e.e. cummings

"May I print a kiss on your lips?" I said,  
And she nodded her full permission:  
So we went to press and I rather guess  
We printed a full edition.  
~Joseph Lilientha

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Mary woke up in Marshall's bed, early morning sunlight spilling through the windows across the bed, a huge cat-satisfied smile spreading across her face as she became aware of where she was and why the warm male form behind her made her body react so enthusiastically so early in the day. Marshall had curled around her in his sleep, his arm wrapped protectively around her waist, and a very insistent erection was pressing against her from behind. His face was buried in the crook of her neck, and as Mary moved in coming awake, he murmured something wordless, burrowed his face deeper, and his arm around her tightened. His hips restlessly moved against hers for a moment, but stilled as dreams subsumed need.

Mary analyzed the situation. She did not like to be held. She completely understood cats and their instinctive clawing-fit reactions to restraint, in fact. But this, this was somehow different. The fact that it was Marshall who was wrapped around her made her feel...well, she didn't feel restrained at all. Quite the opposite in fact. She rather liked the feel of his arm there, the feel of his breath, warm and regular against her shoulder. And as for the hard bulge of his groin wedged against her derriere.....

_Oh, I've definitely started my days worse than this,_ thought Mary, taking a moment to relish the feeling of all the pleasures surrounding her, the warmth of the bed, the laziness of the day off ahead of her, the physical satiation of last night, the slow curl of desire the feel of Marshall now was building inside her, and the sure knowledge that he was, at last, hers to do with what she chose. She sighed. _Time to enjoy some of this good day._

She laid her hand lightly over Marshall's, lacing her fingers with his, and she gently rocked her hips back against the fullness there. She pulled their laced fingers up to cup his palm over her breast. At her neck, she felt the warm explosion of his sudden breath as his hand curled around her, finding her nipple already pebbled against his palm. She wondered what he was dreaming of as he sleepily muttered a few syllables of husky nonsense into her skin. _Not too difficult to figure it out, really, _she thought with a smirk as his hand flexed and caressed, instinctively kneading as she released it to run a gentle caress down to his hip, softly pulling him tighter against her.

She knew the exact moment he shifted from dreaming instinct to waking caresses. His fingertips captured her already-taut nipple and rolled it, pinching gently, tugging lightly, before soothing again with a firm caress and starting over. She felt a kiss, warm, slow, tasting, lazy, pressed against her shoulder, and a moment later, another against the side of her neck. He brought his hand down to her hip, and she felt his teeth languidly nibble at the taut curve of her shoulder as she arched back against him, raised one knee in blatant invitation.

He held her firm and slid over her, against her, once, twice, lazily, making her groan at the feel of him moving against tissues already wet and ready for him, and then he thrust into her from behind, hard and deep, and her little cry of satisfaction shimmered in the air between them as her body adjusted to him. He caught her chin and turned her mouth to his, and she felt in the sucking and nibbling of his mouth, the rough thrusting of his tongue, a hunger that belied his continued stillness as they lay connected, him buried to the hilt inside her.

His hand slipped between her legs to cup her, twining his fingers and exploring until he found her swollen bud with his fingertip and began to circle slowly, utterly without haste. Mary's head fell back against his shoulder, and she could not stop the small noises of pleasure he was drawing from her. As his wicked fingers drove her up, her hips flexed instinctively, and she gasped as she moved on him.

"That's right, Mary," his husky voice broke the silence, a growling whisper filling her ear with heat and sound. "Use me. Know you need it." His thumb joined his index finger, and he gently applied pressure, causing her hips to buck sharply, rocking against him, the double stimulation almost more than she could bear. He kissed the back of her neck. "Do what feels good. Take what you need, Mare. Take all of me, as hard and as deep, as fast or as slow...however you want to, Mary. Make it good for yourself."

Those words and that tone from this man, the feel of him so hard pressed so deep inside her were almost enough to make her come by themselves. Her hips were undulating against him, riding him. His hand had slid up to her hip to hold her steady as she began to writhe, aching for speed, all the previous laziness burned away by need. In moments she was in climax, every part of her clenching as her body reached for ecstasy, fast, arching back against him, one hand fisted helplessly in the sheet, one hand reaching back to grab at him. She panted, heart racing, as she came down, and as she did so, she became aware that he had not come with her....

Mary turned her head and looked at him over her shoulder with eyes wide and unfocused, and he met her with a wicked smile, withdrew almost completely and then thrust against her, reseating himself deep inside her, fingers tightening their grasp on her hip before he hungrily took her lips. "My turn for breakfast...."

---

Mary watched Marshall as he made french toast. She was fascinated by the deft, precise movements of his hands, the strong bones of his wrists. She allowed her eyes to run over his strong, lean body from head to toe as he stood in front of the stove bathed in the morning sun in an old pair of jeans and a faded t-shirt. _How did he get to be this good-looking? Was he always this sexy and I wasn't paying attention properly? Why didn't I pin him down in the GMC on a stakeout a looong time ago?_

"Mare..." His voice was gently amused. He didn't stop the process of dipping the bread into the liquid mixture in the old blue bowl before gently laying it into the hot cast-iron skillet waiting for it. "You _are_ aware of how you're looking at me, right?"

Mary leaned her elbows on the counter, completely unabashed and placed her chin in her hands. "Yeah? Your point would be? Maybe I like to look." She shifted forward, dropped her voice to a purr. "Maybe I like what I'm looking at."

He cut his eyes to the side, picked up another piece of bread. "Mmm-hmm. I know about you, Mary Shannon. I am familiar with that look. That's the Mary-wants-what-she-wants-now look. Gods and mortals all fear and bow to it. If you follow that train of thought right now, though, I can tell you that we will have no french toast this morning."

"Really?"

"Really. Can't do both at the same time. Honest."

"You could _try_. Where's your sense of adventure?"

"I'm almost positive it would lead to unsatisfactory and possibly painful results in both arenas, Mare."

She cocked her head to the side, continued to rake him with her gaze a moment longer, and then she sighed. "Damn. Spoilsport. Okay. Food it is."

He grinned, placing the last of the bread into the sizzling pan and picked up an old red towel to wipe his hands. He slid his hands into her hair and pressed a quick kiss to her lips. "Good to see we've got our priorities back in order this morning."

"Damn straight, buster. Feed me and give me coffee. _Then_ I'll use you for wild monkey sex all over this kitchen."

He laughed and kissed her again. "Promises, promises..."

---

About noon, they packed up the costumes and headed to Max's. As they drove, Mary looked at the black glory she held in her arms. She ran her fingers over the cape, gently smoothing the feathers. The Morrigan mask still lay on the back seat with Marshall's Thoth mask, the two leaning together, almost as if for support or for closeness.

Mary looked up at Marshall. "Does it seem real to you?"

He didn't look away from the traffic, and he paused a moment before answering. "Not all of it. Some of it seems more real than anything that has ever happened to me before, more important, more vivid. But pieces of it are already getting hard to recall..."

Mary nodded, looked back down at the cape, the tunic, the boots. "Yeah, for me, too." She ran her fingers over them again. Then she deliberately stopped that motion, removed her hand from the cape and laid it on the center console. _I am not going to keep sitting here petting this damn cape. _

Marshall took one hand from the wheel and laid it down next to hers on the console, not holding her hand, but there beside it, warm, comforting and undemanding. His little finger rubbed against her hand gently twice before withdrawing into its own space.

Mary looked down at their hands side-by-side, and the little seed of worry that had dropped into her heart was soothed. _He knows me so well, knows I don't do schmoop and holding hands, knows I __needed something and that I would allow this. _ She felt happiness flare where the worry had been, and she looked up at the view through the windshield while she crept her fingers over his. His hand turned over under hers, gently allowing her to slide her fingers together with his and grasp loosely. Neither one of them looked down or commented as they drove through the late afternoon sun on the first day of November together.

---

Max's studio was just as she'd left it. Max came out to receive them, a wide grin on his face when he saw the two of them together.

"Marshall and Mary together! Wonderful! A happy ending always makes me smile."

He ushered them in, took the costumes from them and laid them gently across one of the huge tables in the work area. "I will see to it that they return to their resting places later on. How did you and my children get along? Did they behave themselves?" A mischievous grin played over his lips.

Mary looked at Marshall for a moment, unsure of what to say. "Uh, yeah, about that....Max....um...."

Max, who had been straightening Thoth's heavy collar, looked up at them and his grin became the smile of a delighted little boy. "Ah....that well, you say? Well, it had been a very long time since the Morrigan had been out to play. Now Thoth, well, Thoth, he is usually very calm and peaceful, but if the two of you were together...."

"You're telling us that you _knew_ this would happen?" Mary didn't quite know what to feel. Irritation, amazement, relief, and possibly, just possibly the slightest trickle of unease were vying for supremacy in the emotional stew bubbling inside her. Who _was_ this guy? She shot a look at Marshall, and she could see that many of the same emotions were chasing across his face, but mostly, he wore a look she knew all too well, curiosity.

Max waved a dismissive hand. "First, I know nothing at all of your night. That you must tell me if you are willing. But...I must admit that I knew when first you saw her that the Morrigan and you were a perfect match for each other, as were you, Marshall, and Thoth. With such pairings on such occasions, sometimes things have been known to happen.... Will you tell me of your party? I do so long to know of it." His tone was gentle, coaxing, and Mary found her unease melting away.

She and Marshall found themselves seated at the scarred and battered kitchen table drinking some of Max's strong coffee and telling him bits and pieces of their evening. He sipped and listened as Mary related the surge of power, the Red Death, and as Marshall told of Thoth taking the troubled spirit away, of his final calm deep words of explanation.

"Ah, then, you have been fortunate indeed! They reveal themselves so fully to very few. They choose, you see. Thoth spoke true. As much as the wearer selects the costume usually, sometimes it is the costume who selects the wearer. It is as they said. They saw that in you which called to them and vice versa."

"But how do you come into all this, Max? What's your part of it?"

Max just smiled. "Curious Marshall. I can see why he chose you. Not all the secrets can be yours, however. Let us just say we all have a very long-standing arrangement, the restless ones and I. It is my honor to make sure that they are cared for and that no harm comes to them or to those who seek them, for whatever time they are needed."

He shifted as if to stand, and Mary and Marshall felt dismissed. "If ever you need something else from me, do not hesitate to come again. For as long as I am in this place, I am at your disposal, Marshals. You are delightful, and I know that they found you so as well."

Mary and Marshall rose, and Max walked them to the door. As they were about to leave, Mary's hand flew to her throat where the raven-headed torc still gleamed. "Oh, Max, I almost forgot! This is yours, too. Don't let me just walk right here with it around my neck still." She raised her hand to tug at it. "It has gotten to feel natural, I guess, and I just forgot I had it on."

Max's hand intercepted hers as she reached up, and his huge hand wrapped gently around hers. "No, Mary. I have not forgotten the torc. Remember what I told you last night? It belongs to and with the Morrigan." He squeezed her hand, pressure so tender from hands that felt capable of crushing stone. Inside her, she felt the silver-black lightning dance. "Please do make sure you both come and see me again, yes?"

They walked out to the truck, and Max called to them as they were getting in, "Who knew a little bet would result in such a mighty adventure, eh?"

As they drove away, Max gently gathered the two costumes up like a father scooping up tired-out toddlers from the living room rug. He carried them in his arms into the great vault of glitter and luxurious fabrics, and amidst the whispering that filled the shadowy corners of the room carried them toward their glassed cases. As he opened the cases and prepared to begin hanging the costumes on their waiting mannequins, he lifted the masks and looked at them affectionately.

"Now. Tell me everything. Clearly, they left out much of the savory details. What happened between them? What happened with this bet? I had no idea you two were going out for such a busy evening!"

It may have been merely the rustling of silks and cottons, but it seemed that there was a rustling answer to his question, and Max's deep laughter filled the echoing room moments later.

---

Mary's fingertips traced the raven heads on her torc, and she was musing out the window when Marshall's voice recalled her to this world.

"He brings up an interesting point, you know."

_Shit. Here it comes. Play it off. You can deflect this...._ "Which is? That we were chosen by the Morrigan and Thoth? Because I thought that was really interesting, too...."_ Good. The picture of innocence. Good._

Marshall looked away from the late afternoon gold of the streets and grinned. "You know you're not going to get away with it that easily, right? I mean, you know I am going to call in my win on the bet, right?"

She dropped the air of innocence and slumped against the door. "Shit. Great. Fine. Whatever. But listen very carefully to what I'm telling you, buddy."

Marshall glanced at her again. "And what is that?"

"If you think I'm going to be calling you at any time "sir," "master," or any such horse-hockey as that, you can for-fucking-get it. Also, I advise you to remember that you probably want to live at the end of said bet's collection before you name your terms. Just a word of friendly wisdom from me to you."

They were pulling up to Mary's house, and Marshall killed the engine. He leaned over the steering wheel, angling in his seat.

"So I guess having you call me 'Lord Marshall' as part of it for a week is out, huh?"

Mary smiled that not-smile of hers and seconds later, he was grabbing her fist as she swung out at him and pulling her over the center console into his arms, restraining her as she tried to punch him first, then tickle him as her hands were pinned down.

He laughed hysterically, and when they subsided, they were both panting slightly. She turned her head and looked at her house. She knew she ought to go inside, ought to let him go home, but she was suddenly unwilling to be apart from him.

"I don't think anybody's there. Want to come in for a little while? It's getting cold in here."

"Are you kidding? We've still got to settle the terms of your servitude..."

"Jesus, you are just _asking_ for it...."

He grabbed her bag from the back of the truck. They walked up the short drive, and he carried it into the house and on into her bedroom in the back so she could unpack it at her leisure. Mary went to the kitchen and got them something to drink as he pulled off his boots and flopped down bonelessly on the sofa and cut on the TV, searching for sports or a movie they'd both be able to enjoy. She brought the beverage back, placed his in his waiting hand without even looking, folded down against his shoulder, and he wrapped his arm loosely around her. Although neither one of them realized it, they both sighed in contentment as the last step of this familiar ritual was completed.

They sat there watching for a few minutes, and then Mary said, "So...."

Marshall, leaning back against the couch as he was, was very still for a moment. "Do you really want to do this, or are you going to be pissy about it?"

Mary pulled away from him slightly, and she _was _a little pissed right then. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know exactly what I mean, Mare. This is me giving you one last graceful out."

She pulled all the way back from him, glaring. "You mean you don't think I can take whatever it is that you're planning to dish out. That I'm too weak to keep a bet with you. Is that what you're insinuating here? Because that's sure as fuck what I'm hearing, Marshall."

Marshall looked at her from his position on the couch, and he fought the urge to smile. _Smile, and you lose. Smile, and all your best-laid plans go directly to hell. Just keep pushing this pride button, Marshall, and you're going to get exactly what you want....._

"I didn't say I thought you were _weak_, Mare, or that I thought you were trying to back out....it's just that...."

"Oh...Oh...OH....I see." She stabbed him in the chest with her index finger, leaning her weight against it for emphasis. "Well, let me tell you something, Marshall Mann, and you'd better listen. If I had won this bet, you'd be dancing around the office in that black and silver underwear I had on last night singing "I'm a Little Teapot" and then generally being my bitch for the next two weeks. Got it?" Mary fought not to be distracted by the other things she'd had planned for Marshall when she'd won. _Must not think about what I was going to make him do outside the office...and in the office after everybody else was gone.... Jeezus...did it get hot in here all of a sudden?_

Humor quirked Marshall's lips at her response. "Reeally? I'm not sure black is really the right color to go with my skintone, you know?" He caught her hand and brought it up to his lips, pressing a kiss to the palm. His eyes sparkled with mischief and something else. That something else suddenly made Mary nervous.

"So I'm to understand that you would have shown me no mercy?" His eyes were locked with hers, and his lips now pressed against the pulse point in her wrist.

Mary fought to hold on to her anger, to her thoughts. "Tha-that's right. No mercy, Marshall. A bet is a bet, and I would have held you to it."

"Mmm." He dropped his gaze for a flickering second down to her mouth, then snared her again with it. "Maybe you're right." His strong fingers wrapped around her wrist to draw her inexorably forward against him. "Maybe I am underestimating you." He lowered his head, but he pressed his mouth to the corner of hers, not the kiss she was craving suddenly. "Yeah I think so. I will hold you to it, Mare, completely and fully, no mercy." His lips whispered over hers, still not the pressure she wanted, and she pressed forward, growling a little frustrated. He smiled. "Anything else would just be...disrespectful, wouldn't it?" And he took her mouth hard, opening it with his tongue to pillage and plunder as he pressed her back against the couch.  


* * *

**And the bet will finally be resolved in the next chapter. Promise. Scout's honor and all that. Don't shoot. Would love to know what you think of what's here, though.... R&R. **


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Sorry for the long delay in writing. Personal illness and my job have prevented me from doing much except surviving. Hopefully, now that I have a bit of a break, I can get this story finished. I have another treat for you, too, which I hope to get up in the next few days. Look for it soon. Happy Holidays, everyone.

* * *

**

Don't worry about losing. If it is right, it happens - The Main thing is not to hurry. Nothing good gets away.

~John Steinbeck, 10 November 1958

* * *

_Me and my damn mouth_, thought Mary. _One of these days I am going to start looking before I leap. Still, honor above all. I can do this. It's only a week. How much shit can he pile on me in a week?_

Mary was sullenly staring at Marshall's back as they crossed the office. In her hands, she held a cardboard carrier of coffees. She passed by Eleanor's desk, and Marshall gave her a meaningful look. Mary sighed, turned, and stomped back to stand in front of Eleanor who looked up in surprise.

"Here. Got these for you this morning," Mary ground out as she unloaded two coffees. "One for you and one for Stan. En-freakin-joy." Mary spun on her heel and stalked over to her desk, shoving a pile of papers so hard they fell to the floor prompting a stream of profanity Eleanor suspected wasn't the sole result of the accident.

Eleanor was absolutely motionless in shock. Eleanor lifted the coffee marked as her favorite kind and pried off the travel lid to sniff suspiciously at the contents. She shot a glance over to Marshall who was typing madly away on his computer, supposedly the picture of innocence. She narrowed her eyes at him. Was he or was he not trying to hide a grin? What the hell were these two up to now?

---

Eleanor continued to monitor the situation with great curiosity. When Stan came out of his office with a pile of paperwork for two new witnesses processing into the program, he automatically handed it to Marshall. Stan chatted briefly with his two Marshals and then returned to this office. As soon as his office door closed, Marshall picked up the thick folder of forms and held it up with a crooked little grin, waving it at Mary slightly. What was this?

Mary steadfastly ignored him. She was pretending to be looking for something in her desk drawer, her chair turned away from him. _Ha, _Eleanor thought,_ she's going to have to get better than that. That wouldn't fool a child. Isn't she supposed to be an expert in subterfuge and hiding things?_

Marshall wasn't having any of it either, apparently. He cleared his throat unsubtly. When that was ignored, he tapped his pencil on his desk making a loud and irritating clicking sound. Mary finally slammed her drawer closed and spun her chair to face him. Eleanor wondered why Marshall didn't just spontaneously combust from the glare Mary was giving him. Maybe he'd been on the receiving end of so many he was now immune.... He continued to hold out the folder, and he cocked his head to the side, raising one eyebrow as if he were now asking a question.

_It's as if they're having a whole conversation here that I'm not privy to. Oh, I wish I knew what they were saying...._

Mary got up, chair hitting the desk with the force of her push-off, and reluctantly slunk across the small space to retrieve the folder. Eleanor was careful to watch without appearing to watch as Mary shot a quick glance at her. _Nothing to see here. I'm just working on these files. Pay no attention to me.... Go __on with whatever it is that you two are up to. Please....._

It was as Mary took the file from Marshall,that the most interesting bit happened. It was so fast that if she hadn't been looking for it, she wouldn't have seen it at all. Marshall's finger flickered out and traced a quick pattern down across Mary's hand gently, softly. Her eyes flew to meet his at last, and a moment of silent communion occurred. Mary's disgruntled expression slowly evaporated, and for a minute, the air of the office was absolutely far too warm as they simply looked at one another. _Mercy, _thought Eleanor, _you two need to get a room.... _Then Mary suddenly snorted and turned away with something like her usual antagonistic smile. "Yeah, yeah. _Anyway... _Everybody knows that if you want it done right, you have to do it yourself...."

Eleanor sighed in relief. _Think I'll slip in to Stan's office and let him know we won't be needing the broom closet option today after all._

_---_

At the end of the day, Mary waited until the doors of the elevator closed behind Eleanor before she turned on Marshall. They were all alone in the office, everyone else having gone home long ago.

"You are SO freakin' lucky my sense of honor doesn't permit me to kill a partner," she growled as she crossed the room to punch him in the arm.

Marshall grinned and held up his hands to intercept the blows he knew were coming next. "Come on, Mare. What did I ask you to do today that was so bad, really? Pay for a few coffees? Be nice to Eleanor? Do your own paperwork for a change?"

Mary lunged, moving to strike him around his blocking arms. "Don't...say....Eleanor...and.... be nice...again....if you want to live," she ground out. "You are evil. Just evil. Why didn't you just have me strip naked and do a tap dance in the middle of the squad room downstairs? I could have lived that down quicker than today's smarm fest with the Queen of File Folders."

Marshall giggled helplessly at the image. "Ah, but Mare. She was so _happy_ when you offered to realphabetize that entire filing cabinet drawer for her."

Mary growled and pounced on him, somehow getting him into a headlock. He was laughing too hard to protect himself, and he pushed futilely at her arms, slipping loose eventually and tumbling back against his desk.

"Is that any way to treat your...lord and master?" He panted the words, still laughing and combing his hair out of his eyes.

Her entire demeanor changed. It was sudden and marked, her expression becoming that of another so quickly it was as if a mask had been dropped over it. All the playfulness and all the gentleness was suddenly gone. She froze and looked at him. It was as if the temperature in the room suddenly plummeted, and Marshall was aware that somehow, some way, he had crossed some line. He watched her warily.

"What did I tell you about those words? What did I say?"

She struck at him again, and he caught her hands in an expert grip, pinning her hands harmlessly up and behind her. The position pulled them together tightly, and she bared her teeth like a thing gone feral and brought her knee up hard. Expecting the move, he blocked and spun her quickly, maintaining his hold on her wrists.

"Wow, Mare. That's not nice. If you'd made that strike, well, let's just say we'd both be sad. Me definitely now a lot, and probably you later at least some." He struggled to keep his tone even, calm. He leaned down to kiss her neck, quick to dodge as she tossed her head. She was, at least at the present, unwilling to be seduced. _Okay, so I can't turn this rage that way...._

She struggled against his hold, seeking an exploitable weakness. "Like fuck I would.... The only sad I am right now is that you're not curled into a tiny little ball on the floor with me dancing the chacha right in the middle of your balls. Let. Me. Go." Her voice was a snarl.

He knew that in her present state she was fully capable of doing exactly what she'd said. He shifted his grip a tiny fractional bit intending to maneuver her to a more comfortable position. For her, it was enough. She put her training against his, and reversed the grip he had on her wrists, and he found himself suddenly pressed up against the wall by his desk.

"Hmm. Should've been expecting that. So you're angry, you say?" He still fought for a calm, conversational tone despite the growing irritation he felt. _What the hell had he done?_

Her response was a hiking of the arm she held behind him to a more painful angle.

"Mare...Look. You _did_ agree to this bet, didn't you?"

The pressure on his arm did not abate. Yeah. He _was_ starting to get a little ticked off himself. His instincts and training were pressuring him to break her hold and fight back. _Patience, Marshall. Patience. It will not do for Stan to come in tomorrow and find the two of you dead on the floor near the conference room.... You knew she'd get pissy about this sooner or later. It is not in her nature to follow. Do not respond in kind. Do not get out of this hold._

"We can stop now then. This was obviously a bad idea. Fine. As far as I'm concerned it's over. The end. No blood, at least not yet, and no foul."

Her hands on him loosened, dropped away. He turned to face her, but she was already walking away from him to the darkened windows and the skyline beyond. "Shit, Marshall. No. I just, it just.... Today was hard. Bringing Eleanor coffee was one thing, having to do the paperwork was another. None of it was bad. Taking everybody's lunch order and then going to get it was a royal pain in the ASS, but I did it. I did it. I even managed not to kill the teenager at the sandwich shop when he started asking me if I wanted Stan's fucking sandwich toasted or plain and which of the seven stupid kinds of mustards they had I wanted. I deserve a medal for that, you know. I told him to use all damn seven."

He smiled. He could see her standing there in the sandwich shop, wide-eyed and suddenly indecisive, pressed almost to the point of drawing down over condiments, this woman who had faced mafioso hitmen with a smile and a song, with nary a quiver. He felt that quick bright fluttering around his heart again, and raised his hand absently to his chest, unaware of the motion.

"Doing that filing for Eleanor later on irritating, having to listen to her prattle on and 'be nice' like you asked, that wasn't even what sent me over the edge. None of that justified my putting my hands on you like that." She looked at him briefly, paused, wet her lips, looked down at the floor. In a soft voice she said, "Nothing justified my putting my hands on you like that." Which he understood was as much of an apology as she was capable of giving him.

He did not cross to where she stood. He gave her the space he knew she needed at that moment above all other things. Somewhere he had crossed a line, stepped onto one of the pressure-sensitive plates that had triggered one of the hidden landmines riddling her war-torn psyche, and he knew that the safest thing to do was to be still until he could figure out the proper sequence for disarming it. _Otherwise, this damn thing might blow us both sky-high...._

"What did it then, Mare? Tell me so it won't happen again."

She had turned again to face the darkness beyond the window, the heart of the night. He could see her reflection against the darkened glass. She shimmered there, a ghost image of her true self, and he watched the expression on her face. Only half her face appeared, the other half shading into darkness in the lighting of the office. He looked for clues, sifted for hints as to what had gone so wrong, wondered how much of it she might be willing to tell him this time...

"It wasn't even you, really.... That's the damnedest part of it." Her arms crossed over her chest, held her shoulders in that universal warding gesture he'd seen a hundred times, a thousand, in people who were hurt inside, hurt in their hearts, in their souls, and were trying to hold themselves together with sheer force of will. _Does she even know she's standing that way? No, because if she did, she'd stop. She'd straighten up, put her hands by her side, maybe one hand on her Glock for safety, or maybe drop it to her badge to trace the star there. It makes me hurt to see her like that...._

He slowly walked forward until he stood behind her. He did not touch her. He let his presence there be enough. It would be bad. He knew enough about her to know it would be very bad. He thought he knew most of the bad, but apparently there were wells of darkness into which he had not yet begun to dive. _But if she's lost in them, then I'm going right in after her._ "Mare," he said softly, coaxingly. "it can't be so bad that you can't tell me...."

She sighed, and she leaned back against him. He let her lean, hoped the simple contact was enough, unsure of whether or not to put his arms around her. They stood for a long moment in silence, then she took his hand and pulled his arm around her waist. He folded his other there as well, hands gently spreading in a gesture of protection, of warding.

"Don't talk while I'm telling you this. I don't ever want to talk about this again. I am only going to tell you this now because I think that after you were just pinned to a wall you somehow...deserve...an explanation of why. And I mean that, Marshall. No words. Okay?"

He squeezed her gently, unsure of how else to answer her and still honor her request.

"After Daddy left....no, that's not the place to start. Too far in the past, too much story. You can't possibly want to hear all that shit, and I don't want to drag out all those bones tonight...."

_Mare, I'll go down any cemetery road you need to walk, through any charnel house. Just lead the way. I'll fight any monster you need to kill tonight. Just point him out. Even if the face he wears if your father's._

"Anyway, let's fast forward a bit, okay?" The reflection of her face in the window was strangely still as she spoke. Her eyes were focused on a distant cellular tower, its red beacon pulsing like a frantic electric heart in the sky. "I discovered boys when I was junior high, but they didn't become really interesting creatures until I was in high school. I had too much on my plate trying to hold things together at home with Jinx and Brandi, and we moved around so much. But you know me. When I get interested in something, I go after it full-tilt."

He saw a phantom smile flitter over her face and he drew her back against him more fully. She permitted it. He wasn't sure who the contact comforted more, her or himself.

"When I was a senior, I was captain of the basketball team. I was good. Hard to believe, right? Anyway, that year, I was being scouted by several schools even, and it looked like I had a chance at some money for college. God, I was so excited. It was going to be a chance to get out, to get away. That same year, through friends, I met this guy who was, in my opinion, the end-all, be-all of men. His name was Steven, and he was a college junior."

Marshall felt every muscle in his body tightening. Enter the evil monster. Stories like this always went down dark paths indeed....

"Yeah, well...Steven and I started going out. Pretty soon, he was my entire pathetic little high school universe. I hid him from Jinx. It wasn't that hard to do, really. I mean, it was _Jinx_. Hell, I'd been outsmarting her since I was six. But I knew she wouldn't like him. Somehow, that just made him more exciting, though. Damn. Who knew that Jinx could ever be right about anything..." Her voice was full of self-derision. "Anyway, at first, he was so romantic and attentive. Pretty soon, though, he started telling me how I didn't _quite_ measure up to what he thought he wanted me to be. If I just wore _these_ clothes, listened to _this _music....did _these_ things.... then.... And if _he _said it, well then...."

Marshall shifted, fought the urge to speak, to hold her, to do something....

"This is an old story. Shit. It gets made over on Lifetime every other week, doesn't it? Girl meets boy, girl falls for boy, girl recreates herself in image boy creates for her. Girl gives up herself because she thinks that boy...." She laughed a humorless laugh, and she stepped forward out of Marshall's arms. Even though he wanted to protest, to say something, he let her go.

"I lost the basketball scholarship for him. He didn't like the school that was courting me being so far away. Wanted me to be closer." She laughed bitterly. "Closer. More useful that way, right? Found out from my best friend two weeks later that he had a...harem....of high school girls and freshmen he kept around for what he called 'light entertainment' to his friends. Apparently, he had a list. It was some kind of contest he was in with his friends. Who could get the most of us on a string. Of course I didn't believe her, so she dragged me up to his dorm room one night at a party I wasn't supposed to be at, and.... I continued my education in the trustworthiness of men, you might say."

Her face was smooth, pale in the reflection, something carved from bone. Her hands were gripping her shoulders tightly. He could knuckles white where they bent. Her voice went relentlessly on. Marshall could feel it like a physical wound ripping little holes in him as she continued to speak.

"He wasn't my first. He was the first for a lot of those other girls, I think. I've always been savagely glad I could say that he didn't get that from me. But you know what his particular kink was, Marshall?"

A creeping feeling of sickness slid into Marshall's belly, made him want to throw up, made him want to go stand under boiling hot water and be clean again.... He knew. He did not want to hear her say it, did not want to hear her confirm it, did not want what they had to be connected to this even by accident or jest....

"He liked lots of toys. He had lots of props. And yeah, liked for me to call him names."

That man was a dead man. It was simple enough to kill and make it look like an accident, and really, to kill with one's hands was more satifying anyway. So easy to fall around the home and break a neck. Didn't most fatal accidents happen around the house statistically? Marshall would ask around. Maybe Brandi knew this Steven's full name....

Mary turned to face him for the first time. Marshall blinked, forced himself to file away plots for revenge and focus on her.

"I'm going to hold up my end of the bet. I keep my wagers. I just needed you to know why I have a problem with some parts of....some things." She continued to look at him. "And... I need you not to use those terms again."

Marshall held up his hand. "Scout's honor."

She smiled just a little, the fragile rigid mask cracking, his Mary peeking out from beneath. "And were you a Scout? 'Cause that's worth shit if you weren't, you know."

Relieved beyond all measure, he grinned a little at back her. "Eagle Scout, full honors, ma'am."

She released her shoulders and she reached out her hand to him. He took it in his own, noticing how cold it was.

"Of course you were. You would do something dorky like that."

He tugged her slightly. "Hey. There's nothing about being dorky in the Oath, lady."

"Oh yeah? What is, then?" she challenged gently as he reeled her in.

"Let's see.... being mentally awake...."

"Okay. You can check that one off, I think. Guess that explains all the damn trivia." He enfolded her in his arms.

".... being physically strong...." He dipped her back dramatically, and she laughed, slapping at his chest.

"Idiot. Okay. Yeah. Sort of. If a Cub Scout is your main competition, I can see how you squeaked through that one. Next."

"....and remaining morally straight...." He kissed her gently, sweetly. She sighed under his kiss, smiled against his lips, pulled away.

"Mmm....Damn. You know I just can't resist a challenge like that, Marshall. Let's see if I can't help you take the shine off that one...." She pulled his head back to hers for a long kiss, sliding her tongue aggressively into his mouth.

"Now, Marshal Shannon, whatever would you have in mind?"

She had already pulled his shirt from his jeans, and her nimble fingers undid the button of his waistband and ripped down the zipper before slipping inside his boxers to grasp him firmly. He felt his knees buckle slightly as her fingers began to stroke him in maddening caresses. He hardened in her hand almost immediately. He heard her purr of approval against his throat, and it was just another layer of the erotic. Her hot breath washed over his neck and he felt her teeth scrape over the tendon there before her sultry voice filled his ear.

"Something like this, Marshal Mann. Something just like this..."

He turned his head, mouth seeking hers desperately, little noises of need coming helplessly from deep within his chest as she continued to run her palm firmly up and down his shaft. She kissed him, reveling in his frantic need, taking his tongue into her mouth and sucking it in the same rhythm she was using to pleasure him with her hand. He groaned, one arm around her, the other hand sliding into her hair, his hips bucking as he began to lose control, unconsciously starting to thrust.

She broke the kiss, whispered against his lips, "And then there's always this, too..." And she was on her knees in front of him, his boxers down around his ankles before he was even aware of her intention. He looked down in lust-glazed wonder to meet her eyes as she flickered her tongue out over the engorged head to slowly, slowly lick away the gathered fluid there.

"God...Mary..." he gasped, his hands sliding down to tangle in her hair. He needed to be inside her. He needed....he needed...he wanted....

She wrapped her hand around the base of him and she took just the head of him into her mouth working it with her lips and her tongue. His hips arched as pleasure shot through him, and his groan was almost that of a man in pain.. Mary smiled around him, and he felt it against him. She released him from her mouth, and he panted.

"More, Marshall," she murmured as she nuzzled his heavy testicles, pressing kisses there, her tongue darting out to lap at him like a brand. Her hand had resumed its steady stroking of his shaft. "If I'm going to get rid of all that moral straightness, it's going to require...." she brought her mouth to the glistening tip again, and he stopped breathing. _Oh please let her...oh please just let her...fuck...just want her to.... _"It will require something like this..." And she sucked him deep, hard, all the way down her throat He was crying out, obscenities, pleas, and incoherent nonsense. His hips were snapping hard and fast as he thrust against her. He grasped her hair with both hands. She controlled his movements with her hands on his hips, allowing him to move fast for a few moments, then stopping him so she could work him with her lips and the rubbing suction of her tongue on the sensitive underside taking him beyond words altogether. She released his hips and let him find his own frantic pace to his finish, reaching between his legs to press hard as he came, making his orgasm doubly intense from the added stimulation.

His knees collapsed and he fell. She caught him as he slumped downwards and pulled him into her arms. He was panting, eyes unfocused, face blissful and dreamy.

She looked at him in satisfaction, cradling his head in her lap, gently pushing strands of hair out off his forehead as he came down. As his eyes focused on her, she smiled.

"How's that moral straightness now, Eagle Scout?"

He grinned up at her. "I think you just quite literally blew that one straight to hell, Mare." He pulled her down for a kiss.

"Too right I did, buster. I think I should get a merit badge for it too."

He sat up, pulled his boxers back up his hips. "Oh, I definitely agree." Then he laughed. "Wonder what that one would look like...." They giggled together for a minute and he drew her against him, wrapped his arm around her. They sat together like that, just enjoying the feeling of being together. He took her hand in his, and just held it.

"Mare...."

He felt her stiffen.

"We said we weren't going to talk about this. You agreed. Remember?"

"No. You demanded. You just assumed I went along with it. I only want to say one little thing. I promise."

Her hand in his was like wrought iron, inflexible and so, so brittle. A hard strike would cause it to shatter. He turned it over in his own and kissed the palm, folded her fingers around it, encased her hand with his own.

"Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me. Hurting you is the last thing I ever want to do, even by accident, even just by dredging up old ghosts. I need you to know that, Mare. I need to tell you that."

She was still rigid, made of stone, of glass. Her eyes pled with him not to push her farther than she could go, not to make the hairline fractures that were always there run and grow into fatal fault lines. Mentally, he sighed.

"I hope you cut his breaklines or something similarly creative." _This is not what I want to say. I want to tell you that I love you. I want to wrap you in my arms and tell you how beautiful and perfect you are just as you are, broken and proud and battle-bruised. I want to go out and crush that bastard so hard that he never even existed. Oh Mary. But this is not what we are to each other. This is not what you'll let me be. So... _

Mary smiled an evil little smile and she relaxed against him again, comfortable now with him since the conversation had turned. "Well, he may not have been my first in bed, but he was my first evil revenge. Get your skinny ass up and we'll go grab some dinner. I'll tell you all about it. It's epic, if I do say so myself."

They walked out of the office into the cold November night hand in hand, fingers tightly laced together.

---

The next morning, when Eleanor arrived, she could hardly wait to see what the day brought by way of new developments in the Mary and Marshall Show as she'd begun to term the saga to herself privately. She had talked to Stan about it, and she saw that his office door was open today. She laughed a little, softly, at that. _Curiosity got the best of you, huh? Didn't want to have to get it second-hand today, did you?_

A few minutes later, Marshall strolled in, and sure enough, Mary was behind him. As with the day before, she carried coffees in a cardboard carrier. Unlike the day before, though, today, Mary was smiling brightly.

"Here you go, Eleanor. Coffee for you. Aaaannd..." Mary sat the carrier down on the desk and pulled out a waxed paper bag from her coat pocket. "Look! Pastries! You take your pick."

Marshall looked back at her, astonished. _What the hell is this? This is a huge change from yesterday. And when did she get those pastries? I didn't see her buy those...._

Eleanor sat down hard in her chair. "Um, Mary? Are you feeling okay today?"

Mary threw back her head and laughed. "Sure. Never better. Why do you ask? Don't I seem okay today? Do I look sick or something?"

Out of the corner of her eye, Eleanor saw Stan come to the door of his office and lean against the door. He had a file folder in his hands, ostensibly his reasons for coming out. _Oh fine,_ Eleanor thought, _come watch, but don't help or anything. Shouldn't somebody be calling for the men in white coats? Or maybe somebody from Area 51?_

Eleanor looked cautiously at her. "No, no, no. You look fine. In fact, practically glowing....."

Marshall looked at her suspiciously. _Yeah, she is glowing. Mary doesn't glow. She's up to something. But what? Why do I feel suddenly that I'm being set up for something...._

Mary grinned again, further disconcerting Eleanor. "Good!" she boomed. "Great! Now Marshall and I need to go see some witnesses, but when I get back, I'm going to finish up that file drawer, okay?"

Eleanor summoned up the energy to say faintly, "O-o-okay. See you, then." She sat weakly at her desk in shock as Mary bounced away.

Mary grabbed some things from her desk, tilted her head at Marshall, and the two of them were soon enclosed in the elevator. As soon as the doors slid shut, Mary looked at Marshall out of the corner of her eye.

"I was good, right?"

He grinned. "You were, yes."

"Would you say...very good?"

"I would have to say very, very good. No blood was shed, and once Eleanor gets her head screwed back on straight, I think she's going to have a very pleasant day since you were so nice to her."

"And wouldn't you say that such goodness deserves some kind of reward?"

Marshall snorted. "You can't shoot her when we get back, Mare. Sorry."

Mary turned and pressed him against the wall. "Not what I had in mind at all, Marshall.... I had...other types of rewards in mind. And...I thought maybe you could...give them to me...."

"Oh. Well. Yeah. I'm for that. A merit system. Absolutely." He blinked, and beneath her palms, she could feel his heartrate pick up. His response to her never failed to please her, and she smiled a little.

She pressed her mouth to his gently, hungrily. "Really? Because I came up with this on the way to work this morning."

"You were doing some fast thinking in the car." He was getting distracted, which was not good where Mary Shannon was concerned. _Ah, so...this is what she has been brewing in that crafty mind all morning. Now we're getting down to it._

"Yeah. Kind of. So if I'm good, I get a reward, a little bonus. Something to look forward to. Something to take the sting out of you telling me what to do all day long." She licked his bottom lip, sucked it between her teeth to tug it gently.

"S-s-something like...like...last night?" he stuttered, his brain and body giving him a full, happy replay of Mary on her knees in front of him.

She smiled against his lips, slipped her tongue in to taste him briefly. "Mmm. Maybe."

"Who names the prize?" _Think, Marshall, think, dammit. Mental agility is required. She's about to do whatever it is she's been planning right now, _wailed the clever part of his own mind. Unfortunately the vast majority of his intellect was engaged in appreciating the press of her body against his and the sensation of her hand drifting down his torso....

Her hand was sliding low on his belly, tracing just above his belt, palm flat against his abdomen. She purred against his mouth. "Don't you think, if I'm very, very good, that I should get to name my own prize?" The tip of her index finger trailed lightly down to trace against the fly of his jeans.

_Danger. Danger, Will Robinson. Danger! _

"Uh....Yeah. Sounds fair to me."

She pulled back a step as the elevator settled to the bottom floor. "Knew you'd see it my way."

_Wait. What the hell did I just agree to?_

"Yeah. The rest of this week of doing what you say should go by much easier now that I have these little...treats...to look forward to." She stepped off the elevator and looked at him where he was still leaning against the wall. "Coming, Marshall?"

He ran his hand over his face. "I think I've been had."

Mary smiled and kept walking toward the GMC. "Yeah, but don't even try to tell me that you didn't enjoy it, Marshall." There was a definitely sassy bounce to her walk.

* * *

**Soon. It will finish soon. I promise. I thought it would finish here, but it just didn't. Sigh. R&R.**


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: By popular demand, we have here the story of how Mary got even and one of Mary's "treats." Hope you enjoy. Merry Christmas, everyone.

* * *

**

Life being what it is, one dreams of revenge. ~Paul Gauguin

Vengance is a dish best eaten cold. ~Proverb

* * *

Back at the office, the more Marshall thought about Mary and her "little treats," the more confused he became. He knew she was up to something with this manipulation, and he knew he ought to be worried about it, probably. The logical, methodical side of his mind was turning the situation over searching for the tripwire that was going to cause the whole thing to explode in his face. Things with Mary so often did that, after all.

_How is it that she lost this bet, but she's still managed to get me into a spot where she's able to call the shots? How does she DO that? _He felt that resurgence of admiration for her even as he felt unease about what she might want to do to him. Mary did believe very seriously in the art and religion of Pay-Back. He knew that after her story last night and from years of experience as her partner.

His mind drifted back to their dinner conversation....

Mary had dragged him to a burger joint they frequented often enough for the waitstaff to know them by name. They'd commandeered their favorite back booth, a spot allowing them to keep an eye on both entrances and keep both their backs to the corner walls. They'd been brought beers before the waiter even brought menus, so well were their habits known here. After they placed their order, Marshall leaned back and said, "Okay. You've kept me hanging long enough. Curiosity is eating me alive. Plus, I really want to hear how that loser got his. Tell me."

Mary fiddled with the plastic salt and pepper shakers on the red-and-white-checkered tablecloth. "You really want to hear this, huh?"

_Knowing you got him sufficiently then is the only thing that will keep me from finding him now...._

"I really do."

She sighed. "Okay. Well. After my friend proved to me that he was a low-life, cheating, worthless, manipulative son-of-a-bitch, I wanted to push on into the room and pull him off that girl. I wanted to rip his dick off and choke him with it. And that was just for starters. But I didn't. Some little voice calmed me down. It was like I actually heard a voice telling me, 'Wait. There are better ways to have revenge.' And so I just closed the door and went back downstairs."

Mary looked off into the distance. "Until lately, I never understood that voice. After the other night, though, I have a pretty good idea of who that was...." She became silent, and her hand had come up to the silver torc she still wore around her neck, fingers tracing the raven heads there meditatively. She shook her head gently after a moment as if she was waking herself from a dream.

"So my friend was just waiting for me to go crazy, I think, and so she didn't understand why I was so calm. She kept telling me I was in shock, and she kept saying she was going to call somebody. I don't know who in the hell she thought she was going to call for this, but I remember that distinctly. Her continuing to say, 'I'm gonna call somebody' over and over." Mary laughed just a little at the memory.

"Anyway...I went back home, and I started planning. I didn't sleep at all that night. It came to me almost like it was given to me in a dream. It was beautiful, really. Steven called me and asked me for another date, and I went. We wound up at his dorm room like we always did, this time to 'watch movies,' and I sent him out to get food. While he was gone, I tore that goddamn room apart looking for the list, his scorecard of girls. I found it, photographed it just like somebody out of a James Bond spy movie with a disposable camera I bought, and hid it exactly where he kept it. Did the same thing with his address book when I located it.

"When he got back, I hung out a little more, faked sickness, and had him take me home. He was seven kinds of pissed that he hadn't gotten his payoff for his evening." She smiled at the memory.

"After I got my pictures developed, I looked at his 'Contest List' in detail like I hadn't had time to do the night I was in his dorm room. I wanted to throw up. It was worse that I had realized. There were twelve girls on that list. I won't go into it, but he had categories and accomplishments, dates and so forth on it...." Marshall felt his blood heating up again. He allowed himself the relief of closing his hand into a loose fist on the back of the booth as he took a sip of the beer. He said nothing, letting the story unfold.

"Soooo, it turns out I knew three of the other girls on that list. I'd been playing ball against them, and we had a mutual respect thing going on. I called them first. We met up and I showed them the photo. They became my first allies." A slow evil smile spread across her face. "They both knew a couple of others on the list, and they called them up..... Finally, we had eight of the twelve girls together, informed, and I laid out my master plan."

Marshall had seen that look on her face before. Anybody who was the recipient of that look needed to run like hell or find a deep, dark hole in which to hide until it was all over....

"We let Lisa, one of the freshmen, be the 'bait.' He liked to drink with her anyway. He took her to a party and started his usual routine of beer and shots. She just took a crushed-up over-the-counter sleeping pill and slipped it to him in one of his drinks. Looking back, I guess we could have killed him with that, but at the time, we weren't thinking about that....."

_And the great loss to humanity would have been...._ Marshall forced his mind to stop its cynical thoughts. Their food arrived, but neither of them paid much attention so wrapped up in her story were they.

"Lisa got him back to his dorm room before the pill really kicked in, but just barely. The rest of us were following along to make sure everything was okay, and we saw her basically carrying him through the lobby. I think he was singing....

"Once he was out, she opened the blinds and closed them twice, our prearranged signal, and we snuck upstairs. She let us in, and we got started. We dragged him down to the hall bathroom and blocked up the door." Mary's eyes were distant with the memory. "Steven was always so vain about his personal appearance, so meticulous about his grooming." That cat-satisfied smile spread across her lips. She reached down and plucked a fry off her plate, took a bite. "We shaved that bastard completely bald."

Marshall was laughing so hard he couldn't breathe. "Perfect. That's perfect."

"Eyebrows too. But, oh. That's only the start. We all took permanent markers and wrote on him. I forget everything that the eight of us wrote, but I will always remember this one girl, Maggie. Tiny little redhead. She got right down next to his dick and made a giant arrow pointing to it with the words Property of Microbiology Research Department. We laughed about that for about fifteen minutes."

Marshall laughed too, but he shuddered a little at the thought of eight enraged females let loose....

"When we had him all decorated the way we wanted, we wrapped him up in his robe and snuck him out of the dorm by the back door. They were doing construction on the campus at that time right in the middle of the quad, right in the middle of everything, and we took him out to where the heavy equipment had been parked for the night. We had brought a pair of handcuffs and a collar from his own personal stash of sick-bastard equipment and we trussed that cheater up to the bulldozer, hung a sign around his neck labelling him with name and crime, and left him. He woke up a few hours before dawn, but he couldn't get loose until campus PD found him when the first students started going to class."

Mary grabbed her burger and took a huge, satisfied bite. Marshall leaned back in his seat. "And..."

"And that was the end of it. Except for the photos that surfaced later."

"He didn't try to retaliate?"

"Oh no."

"Really? Because I figure a guy like that would have been royally pissed and looking for revenge to soothe his ego."

"No. Because before campus PD cut him down, the older brothers of two of our eight came by to see Steven." She took another slow bite of burger. "They were Marines home on leave. They told him the only reason he was still alive was because they found what had happened to him amusing." She dredged a fry in catsup, ate it. "Told him if any of the eight of us ever saw or heard from him again, they'd cease to be amused and he'd cease to be first, male and second, breathing. And that the second part would take a considerable amount of time."

Marshall smiled. _Gotta love those Marines. _He ran his hand through his hair. "Mare, if you ever get mad at me, just shoot me, okay?"

Mary had reached over and snagged one of his onion rings. Spinning it around her index finger, she'd given him a long, considering look. "Marshall, the only thing I know to tell you is don't make me get the Morrigan after you, and you should be okay." Then she'd smiled and nibbled at the onion ring....

Marshall was pulled back into the present by the sound of her voice. Was this how she was going to make him pay for winning? Was the Morrigan after him now? He couldn't help but hear echoes of her voice telling him she'd planned to make him dance around in her black and silver underwear and sing "I'm a Little Teapot." Was this going to be the kind of thing her "little treats" involved? He wouldn't put it past her. After all, he'd been too addled to make her clarify. _Damned idiot. You always make her specify the rules of the game. Otherwise she can change them at will. You've known this for years now...._

One the other hand, though, he was pretty sure that he'd enjoy whatever it was she had in mind. _Look,_ argued the horny third of his mind, _have we ever not enjoyed anything she's had in mind yet? I mean, don't you remember last night? _Marshall looked up from his desk to the place where she'd knelt and he'd collapsed, and he felt a hot blush pinkening his cheeks. He was so infinitely grateful that there were none of the digital security cameras in this part of the building. Hacking Federal encryption without leaving a trace was such a time-consuming task, and he hated to think about what sorts of comments that little show would draw, not to mention the very real possibility of his and Mary's partnership winding up on the line if Stan had actually video footage of them...fraternizing...in the office.

The little lusty voice continued, _And when she got you home after dinner, I didn't exactly see you putting up a big fuss then, either, Mac. You weren't exactly running away screaming, "No! Don't touch me!" In fact, wait, let me be perfectly accurate, what running there was involved was __**you**__ chasing __**her **__**to **__the bed, am I right?_

The blush darkened, and Marshall fiddled with the pencil in his hand desperately wishing for a phone call, a new witness to process, or even a terrorist attack on the office that would distract him from this merciless inner monologue. He shot a glance over at Mary. She was bending over one of the filing cabinet drawers, and she and Eleanor were pulling folders and making stacks, chatting like old friends. He could not help it. He stared at the curve of her backside as she worked. He had no problem envisioning that lush curve without the practical wool slacks....

As if she felt the weight of his gaze, she paused and looked over her shoulder at him, brushing back the curtain of her hair. Her eyes met his, and he felt the connection all the way down to his toes. He saw her take in the faint pink staining his high cheekbones, and he saw a feline smile curve her lips faintly, saw her golden gaze warm. She raised her eyebrows slightly and bent back to her work. Her hips gave a gentle little shimmy, ostensibly caused by her shifting her feet to a more comfortable position.

The pencil in his hands snapped. He looked down at the pieces in his hands, aghast, before dropping them on the desktop. He stood up and grabbed his coat. _Air. Need air. Need...need...to get the hell out of this office before I embarrass myself further today. Thank you very much. _

Eleanor looked up at him, puzzled. "Marshall, where are you going? It's too early for lunch, right?"

"Um.... Out of..._oh hell..why not?...._ pencils. Gotta have pencils, you know. Back in a few." He hit the crash bar on the door to the stairs, aware that Mary's amused gaze followed him as he raced down them.

Eleanor looked at Mary. "Did that seem at all odd to you?"

Mary, the perfect picture of innocence, looked back at Eleanor. "Well, you know Marshall. He is the King of Odd, so that's a little hard to say, now, isn't it?"

Eleanor narrowed her eyes, but kept her counsel to herself as they continued to put the files back in the drawer.

---

Marshall decided he'd take care of something more tangible than pencils while he was out. He called the office to say he needed to run some rounds to see a few of his witnesses, and he proceeded to get some head-clearing work done and give himself some time to cool down. As with everything involving the witnesses, it took longer than he had planned, so it was late afternoon when he returned. The temptations of the morning had been replaced with the frustrations and challenges of the job. He was pondering how to get the son of one of his witnesses a car so he could get a part-time job as he walked in.

He looked all over the office for Mary, or for anybody else, for that matter, but could not find her until he glanced into the door of the conference room. She was working at the big table surrounded by two stacks of thick blue folders. The blinds to the conference room were closed.

_Oh...No._

She looked up at him in the doorway and smiled. "Hey, slick. Thought you'd headed for the hills." Mary looked back down at the form in front of her, and began to fill out the meticulous and arcane details on it once more.

He walked to the edge of the table and looked down, running a fingertip across the cover of one blue folder. "Are these what I think they are?"

She continued to write, not looking up again. "Yes, indeedy. Case Completion and Transfer Documentation, Form WS-54J-3. Your friend and mine."

_Damn. Damn. Double damn. _

"And you're doing them?"

She flipped the page on the mammoth document in front of her, checked three boxes and drew a line through the bottom of the page, paused a moment in thought, then signed her name with ruthless efficiency. She closed the file and set it down on the taller of the two piles of blue files. Then she reached for another from the short pile and opened it. Finally she looked at him again and smiled a smile with far too many teeth.

"Yes, indeedy." She studied him for a moment with an amused glance, and then looked back down at the folder.

"But, Mare....you have only done maybe ten of those in the last three years I've been here, and I believe Stan had to threaten to have you, and I quote, 'boiled in oil, tarred and feathered, and then stripped of your badge and gun,' before you would so much as crack a cover on the folder. Even then, I think I wound up doing most of them."

Mary smiled that secretive cat grin of hers and shrugged one shoulder. "Yeah. I know. What can I say? These needed to be done according to Stan, and I just happened to be around, and well, I decided that it would be _a good thing_ to do...." She looked up at him directly, pinning him with her eyes. "Don't you think it was a nice, good thing to do, Marshall?"

_Damn. Da.... You know what? What the hell? She probably won't kill me with it, whatever it is. And she's not good enough with a computer to post it online. There are no pieces of heavy equipment around, and I haven't drunk anything from her and I don't feel sleepy, so..._

"Uh. Yeah. Seems that way to me. Awfully nice of you. Very good indeed. Saved me hours of work."

"Really? _Hours_ you say?" Her smile became positively evil. He felt the distinct need to run. "So you'd say that this was a big, good thing, then?"

He felt a sort of fatalistic sense of impending doom settling over him. "Sure, Mare. A big, good thing." What was she going to ask of him? Would it a treat for them both, or was she about to make him into a dancing teapot?

She stood up, neatly criss-cross stacked the folders, and placed them on top of the filing cabinet off to the side. He watched her. She closed the conference room door and locked it. Confusion filled him again. She stalked toward him where he stood at the edge of the table, slid herself between him and the massive table, and slipped her hands up around his neck. Wariness warred with want.

"So I get my treat, then?" Her fingertips were making distracting little circles in the short hair at the nape of his neck.

"What did you have in mind?" He swallowed hard. She couldn't really be thinking....

"Uh-uh. That's not the deal we have, Marshall. Do I get to tell you whether I will or won't do the things you order me to do? No, because that's not the way the bet works. So all you have to do with this is just say whether or not I've earned it. Then I'll tell you what I...want...." Her eyes were dancing with humor and...something else....

_Okay. Teapot Dance, here I come. God, Mare, please don't make too great a fool of me, not more of one than I already am over you all the time, anyway...._

He sighed and put his hands on her hips. "You have indeed earned a treat, Mary Shannon. Name your prize and claim it." And he closed his eyes and waited for his doom to fall.

She laughed low and throaty and leaned up and whispered in his ear. "Strip down, idiot. We don't have that much time before Eleanor and Stan get back from that meeting, and I have a few definite plans for you and this conference table in their absence."

His eyes flew open and he looked at her in shock. She had slipped out of his arms and was already pulling her sweater over her head and toeing off her shoes. He could feel a grin slipping over his face, and he knew he was just standing there like the idiot she'd just called him, but....

She looked over at him. "Marshall, come on. You. Me. Naked. Now. Fast. Are those words small enough for you, or do you need it as a puppet show, too?" Her shirt was coming off now, and he stared at her luscious curves. A moment of sanity blossomed.

"Are you serious? You want your 'treat' right here in the conference room?"

She grinned rapaciously. "I've had some pretty lurid ideas about you, me, and this room now for awhile. They're all that got me through those damn forms, in fact. Let's just call this a brief introduction today, okay?"

He closed his eyes and groaned, leaning down to place his hands on the wood of the table to steady himself as images and possibilities rose to assail him.

"Marshall," she snapped, "if you don't get your skinny ass naked, how am I supposed to get my hands on it? You're supposed to give me what I ask for, aren't you?" She was now down to just her panties, and she was looking at him with her hands on her hips, the irritation on her face beginning to give way to confusion. "Is it that you don't want to do this..."

He took a half-step towards her and gathered her into his arms. She was immediately wrapped around him, one hand in his hair, nails skimming tracing, one leg coming up to wrap around his hip, and her mouth was open in invitation. _How could anyone resist this? _His lips slid over hers, his tongue darted in and out of her mouth, dueling with hers, clashing, caressing, retreating, advancing. He allowed his hand to begin skimming up her ribcage toward the loveliness of her breast, felt her nipple hard and pebbled against his open palm...

Suddenly she shoved him away from her. She stepped back breathing hard, tongue flickering out over her lips as if she were tasting him there again, and she sat down in one of the large chairs, propped her feet up on the table, ankles crossed. "Now strip for me, Marshall Mann. I'm going to sit right here and watch you take off every piece of that clothing. But you'd better do it fast, or I'm not going to be responsible for the consequences."

Marshall laughed softly. "Yes, ma'am. Whatever you say."

He unbuttoned his shirt slowly, and he let it slide down his arms to the floor. He caught the bottom of his t-shirt and pulled it over his head, revealing the lean, muscled torso she had come to know so well. Her gaze raked him, but she continued to watch. She made a gesture with her hand.

He sat down in one of the chairs across from her and pulled his boots off. She raised an eyebrow.

"Some things shouldn't be done standing, Mare. Sorry."

Her answering smile was so suggestive, so downright dirty, that he felt as if she'd touched him.

"Mmm...but Marshall, how do you know until you've tried? Maybe you'd like it better that way...."

"I'm just talking about boots, Mare."

She laughed a little, stilled. "And I wasn't? Hurry it up, Mann. You're keeping a lady waiting...."

He stood back up, brought his hands to the button of his jeans. Her eyes flew to the fastener. He had never stripped for a woman before, and this rapt attention she paid him as he revealed himself to her was more than a little....

_Disconcerting? Unexpected? A freakin makes-me-want-to-nail-her-right-there-in-that-chair turn-on?_

He undid the button, pulled down the zip, saw her pupils dilate. Normally, he would have hooked both boxers and jeans with his thumbs to strip fast, but instead, he pushed only the denim layer down past his lean hips, allowing them to fall and stepping out of them, coming closer to the chair where she said watching him with those hot predatory eyes.

"Hurry up, Marshall. Damn. I don't want to take so much time with the unwrapping that I don't have any time left to play with my...present..."

He laughed softly and stepped forward again, now just beside her chair. Her eyes ran up and down him, paused for eternal seconds on the bulge tenting the blue boxers, before returning to his eyes. She licked her lips and he pushed down the last garment to stand naked in front of her.

She reached out a hand and brushed just the tip of her index finger down the erect length of him, her eyes locked on his. He could not control the shiver of pleasure as her thumb joined her other finger to teasingly circle the crown, to find and spread the slippery drops of fluid gathered at the tip. He was breathing hard as he watched her watch him as she touched him with this minute torture. And then, when she brought that now-glistening index finger to her lips to lick it clean....

Marshall grabbed her and dragged her against him hard. She growled in satisfaction as his mouth plundered hers. He felt her nails skim around him to bite into his shoulder, felt the nip of her other hand on his hip as she pulled at him with equal want, equal desire. He lifted her by her hips and sat her down on the heavy conference table. She lay back in invitation, legs opening wide, pulling at his shoulders.

He leaned down over her, bracing against the hard dark wood and he continued to feed, to feast at her lips. _Not enough. Want more....._ He broke the kiss and her little noise of irritation became a moan of pleasure as the heat of his mouth closed suddenly and voraciously over her nipple. She arched her back and laced her fingers through his hair. She growled, panting, as she felt his teeth tug gently, then she threw her head back as he began to suckle her deeply.

Her hips moved restlessly on the table, and he ran one hand down her taut belly, slipping beneath the panties she still wore. She cried out as his fingertips slid over her. He brought his mouth up to her ear.

"God, Mare... Do you even know what it does to me to find you so hot..." his finger circled her, brushed against her gently, and she clawed at his shoulders... "so ready for me?" He pressed a kiss to her belly button, and his hands were tearing the panties away. Then he was gone for a moment.

She looked down to see that he had pulled one of the conference table chairs up and was sitting in it. She lay spread before him like an offering to a pagan god. He lifted her hips and drew her to him slightly. "I have to...I want to..." he was murmuring, lowering his head.... "the taste of you...." And his tongue raked over her slowly, slowly, setting every nerve ending in her body on fire. He laved her again, that same slow torture-pleasure, and at the apex of its sweep, he circled the aching bundle of nerves that cried out for his touch, then flickered his tongue against it, once, twice.... She bit her bottom lip to keep from screaming, instantly in orgasm.

He stood again, lifting her hips and driving the full length of himself deep inside her. She managed to wrap her legs around his waist as he began to move. Mary rocked her hips to meet him. His eyes dropped down to where they were joined, and he watched, his thrusts becoming more and more forceful, her moans and little wordless pleas of encouragement filling his ears. His hands bit into her hips as he fought for control, and she only groaned more loudly, writhing against him. He was lost in her, completely, frantic as she, now. Moments later, she arched beneath him, keening as her body contracted violently around his. He let go with a savage cry, following her to bliss.

---

Forty-five minutes later, when Eleanor and Stan returned to the office, Mary and Marshall were in the conference room bickering about whose turn it was to buy dinner. A neat stack of finished Case Completion and Transfer Documentation, Form WS-54J-3, folders sat beside them. They had their feet up on the table, which they both knew Stan hated, and a general air of contentment filled the air.

"Get your boots of this table. Do you know how easy it is to scrape this wood? You have to be careful not to put hard surfaces on it."

Mary laughed and took her shoes down and Marshall was turning red as a beet for some reason. Stan glanced sharply down at the table. Had they scratched it already and done something sneaky to hide it?

"No worries, Stan. I can assure you we take the health and safety of your precious table very seriously. Nothing likely to scuff it has been placed on it. Really." Mary was looking up at him with eyes that practically dripped sincerity. Now Stan knew she was up to something. Probably, though, he did not want to know what it was....

He watched as his two Marshals turned over the stack of finished forms to Eleanor, gathered their things, and headed for the elevator. As the doors closed, he overheard Marshall make a comment that made no sense to him at all: "You were right, Mare. Some things really are quite good once you try them standing up." Mary looked at him frozen for a moment and started laughing, but whatever response she would have made was cut off by the closing of the elevator doors.

* * *

**R&R. I'm curious to know what you thought of Mary's Revenge.**


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: I hope your new year was suitably festive. Here's a little something to kick it off from me.

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**

You have to walk carefully in the beginning of love; the running across fields into your lover's arms can only come later when you're sure they won't laugh if you trip.

~Jonathan Carroll, "Outside the Dog Museum"

* * *

The rest of the week passed in a blur for the two Marshals as their caseload picked up markedly. Marshall continued to find things for Mary to do, seeking tasks that were increasingly outside her zone of comfort, and Mary continued to grin at him knowingly, do them, and patiently wait for her chance to recoup her loses. Eleanor found them more fun than daytime television and couldn't wait to get to work each morning to find out what sort of shenanigans the two were going to be up to each day.

She had quietly filled Stan in on the goings-on, too, and the two of them amused themselves by "forgetting things" in the office after they'd left or by deliberately walking into places Mary and Marshall had disappeared into earlier. This caused Mary and Marshall to spring apart guiltily on more than one occasion or invent silly excuses for inexplicable situations, for example why Mary had been pinning Marshall against a set of filing cabinets ("Um....He was about to show me a new self-defense technique he picked up...").

They also found it funny to call either Mary or Marshall (and, on Thursday night, both, twice) in the evening for a status report or to plan some trivial bit of procedure for the next day, causing the phone to be answered tersely with out-of-breath voices. Mary had actually been cursing the second time Eleanor called, and Eleanor had been almost unable to keep her laughter contained until she could hang up the phone. She and Stan had howled with most un-supervisory-like glee with their pranks.

Eventually, though, Saturday morning rolled around, and everyone's fun was coming to an end. Mary and Marshall were sitting at his kitchen table drinking coffee and finishing breakfast.

"So...what's the plan for today?" Mary pushed her mug aside and sat her chin on her palm, looking at Marshall as he read the paper. "Going to have me vacuum the house? Weed the non-existent garden? Wash the truck? Paint the garage? Better make it good, slick, 'cause today is the last day."

Marshall turned a page of the paper and sipped his coffee. He did not look at her. "Mmm... Nope. Got something big in mind instead."

"A whopping grand finale, eh? Didn't think you had it in you."

He glanced at her, eyebrow arched, looked her up and down, then returned his gaze to the paper.

She grinned. "Oh, right. I forgot I am talking to the great maker of all plans here."

He nodded his head sharply, but she saw a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Just so."

"So...you gonna let me in on this little scheme, or doesn't it involve me?"

His eyes slid to her again, capturing hers, and they were blue, blue, so blue. For a moment, it felt like being swallowed by the heart of the sky. She could not look away.

"It's all about you, Mary. All the time. Always."

_Well...damn...what do you say to that?_

He continued to hold her spellbound with that azure gaze, and then he looked down at his coffee cup, traced one finger around the rim. She saw a tiny smile curve his lips. "As for tonight, though, you'll just have to wait. I'm not ready to tell you what to do yet." His gaze came back to hers, and she saw in it a mixture of humor, uncertainty, and something else...something intense that made her heart flutter in response.

She studied him, trying to figure out what it was about him, exactly, that always made her feel that rush and flutter. Finally, she said, "Okay, then. Just make it good. Remember it's the last shot at it you get."

He reached across the tabletop and caught her hand in his, twined their fingers together, and brought her hand to his lips to press a kiss to the palm. "No worries, Mare. It'll be good. I promise."

---

Marshall was trying to repair a leaking faucet. Mary had gone home for awhile to see her mother and her sister and to take care of all the minor emergencies she knew would be waiting for her at home. She'd spent very little time there in the past week, less even than was usual for her, and they'd both agreed that her family had probably been finding creative little ways to make her pay for it. With great reluctance, they'd parted from one another with the understanding that they'd see each other again that night.

Despite the amount of planning he'd put into this evening, Marshall was nervous. As close as he and Mary had become in a short time, he had no idea how she was going to react to what he had in mind. There were limits to what she would and would not allow, to what she would and would not do. He knew this better than anyone else, perhaps.

_I wish there were somebody I could go to for advice, even. But who the hell am I going to ask about her? Jinx? Brandi? _He laughed a little at that as he worked with the faucet, trying to get the leaking gasket replaced.. _We're all we've got. Lone experts on each other._

He thought for the hundredth time since he'd awakened next to her about giving up this idea. That morning, as the first rays of sun had crept across his bed, he'd lightly, lightly traced the path of the of the gentle glow with his fingertips as it highlighted the gold in her hair and allowed himself the pure pleasure of studying her face, relaxed as it never was in her wakeful moments. _She'd never allow me just to look at her, enjoy her this way if she were awake. She'd make a face or a comment or get uncomfortable...._ He'd relished the curves of her where she was burrowed tightly against him, seeking warmth and security against whatever darkness pursued her in her dreams, her hand resting just above his heart, every minute movement of her fingers cataloged by his memory just in case.... _Just in case this is the last time I hold her this way. _

He sighed heavily, turned the water on and back off again to test the completed task in front of him. _No. I have to know. And that means going through with it. _The faucet was repaired, and he slowly gathered up his tools and began to put them away wishing everything facing him that day was as easy and predictable as the repair he'd just done.

---

At home, Mary was pleasantly surprised to find Jinx and Brandi gone. Her mood, already good from being with Marshall, was almost immediately lifted to new heights. She threw a load of her own clothing in the washing machine, unloaded and reloaded items from her travel bag, and was going through the mail standing at the kitchen island when she heard the front door slam.

_Oh shit. Here we go..._

Jinx came stomping into the kitchen. "Well, well, well. If it isn't the prodigal daughter! What have we done that you have decided to grace us with your presence? And in the daylight hours, too? Oooohh..."

Mary continued to go through the mail, sorting, ripping, tossing. She did not even look up at Jinx. "Yeah, Mom. It's my day off. So I'm home. Did you need something specific?" _Other than an audience?_

"Look, Mary. I know you are a grown-up person and all, but neither Brandi nor I have seen you in about a week! For all we knew, you were dead in a ditch somewhere!" The drama was almost a living, palpable thing as Jinx swished around the tiny kitchen.

_And would you really have cared if I had been? _Mary did not say it, but the thought lay there, sharp-edged and vicious, like the glittering blade of a kitchen knife close by the hand. Her tearing of the junk mail became more strenuous.

"Mom," Mary said, straining for a reasonable tone, "you know work has been crazy this week, so I've been there late quite a lot. And a couple of nights this week, I wound up at Marshall's, too. You knew exactly where I was, or if you didn't, Brandi did. You could have called me at any time if you needed me, so..."

Jinx ignored the last part, pounced on the middle, determined to have her scene. "Oh, yes, _wound up_ at Marshall's. Is that what they're calling it now? Is that the current slang?"

Mary felt something go white hot inside her to have her mother's jeering face and accusatory tone attacking this new and precious thing she and Marshall had together. "I'm going to pretend I don't understand you, Mom, since you've obviously hit your head recently or just gone crazy," she said in that soft, dangerous tone, and she gathered up the mail she needed to deal with herself and prepared to walk away from the confrontation.

Her mother's mocking laughter stopped her cold. "Me? Crazy? Maybe. But not blind. Never blind. You think I don't know what you're doing with him? Come on.... You're at his house more than this one, and Mary, nobody just 'winds up' at somebody's house that many nights. You ought to be helping him with his mortgage!"

Mary's voice was tight, angry. "He's my partner..."

"Oh _yeah_. I'm _sure_!"

"....and it's not your goddamn business even if we're fucking each other right through the hardwood floors, quite frankly. Jesus. Why do you even care? What's got you on this kick all of a sudden? Don't tell me you've decided to play protective and concerned parent all of a sudden, Jinx, because it really doesn't suit you...."

"Does he know you're just screwing around with him? Does he?"

Mary blinked, stopped as completely as if Jinx had hit her between the eyes with a sledgehammer. "W-what?"

Jinx stepped closer to her and hissed, "Does – he – know – you're – just – screwing – around?" She punctuated each word with a vicious jab of her long-nailed finger.

Mary grabbed onto the back of a nearby kitchen chair and wound her fingers through the rungs of the back. Her head was suddenly spinning; she could barely articulate her next words. "Wh-wha- How do you – I don't understand...."

Jinx shook her head impatiently. "He's a really gentle, good, kind man, Mary. One of the best I've ever seen you with. He's not temporary like most of those losers you drag home. He's made to stick, to stay. And he cares for you. Desperately. If he doesn't know that you're just in this for...for...what you're always in it for.... I'm sure you're both having fun right now, but have you stopped to think about what you'll do to him? Even for a second?"

_I am not having this conversation with her. I am not. _

"Well, as fun as this trip down Psychotic Fantasy Lane has been, I think I have things I need to do in the backyard." Mary turned and walked to the back door, flung it open, headed for the winter grass before her. Jinx's words were like little darts full of poison stinging, filling her, and she was desperate to get away, to pluck them out, to draw out the pain of them.

Jinx's voice trailed after her, "He's not like you, Mary. He doesn't do disposable on a daily basis! You're going to hurt him, and he's too good for that!" And the back door slammed with a glass-rattling thud.

Mary kept walking toward the covered pool, movements on autopilot, and suddenly, she had to flee. Her feet carried her through the side gate, around the house, and in she was in the Probe, racing away from the house, away from Jinx, blindly trying to escape the words that were slowly ripping into her.

---

Mary didn't know how long she drove before her aimless wanderings finally brought her out to this place at the edge of the desert. Her mind was numb, a sound like that heard and felt near high-tension wires filling her ears. She switched off the engine, and she got out to walk over to a bench and stare out of the rolling vista in front of her. Her eyes did not focus on any of the sun-bathed landscape. She placed her phone and her keys in front of her on the concrete picnic table, folded her arms to hug her elbows, and tried desperately to sort the emotions racing through her. Her phone buzzed and she ignored it.

_There is not one single soul I want to talk to just now. Not Jinx. Not Brandi. Not Stan. Not Eleanor. Not any of my witnesses. And most of all, not...him. I just need a minute or two._

Two minutes turned into ten. Ten into fifteen, and again the phone beside her buzzed. She glanced this time at the caller ID, immediately looked away. _Not...him. Can't talk to him just now._

The afternoon was getting colder, and she had no jacket, had not taken the time to go back inside for it, had only had her phone, keys, and license because she always had them with her in her pockets. She shivered slightly, and began gently to turn over the layers of what her mother had accused her of.

_She said I'm only screwing Marshall, but that's not true. That's not true. NOT true. But..._

Her mind backed away, shuffled the puzzle pieces again, looked for the next piece to fit into position.

_I **have** done this with others. She's not wrong. I have used them for pleasure, used them for fun. Used them up and tossed them out. She called them disposable. He did, too. He told me that first night that he wasn't disposable. That I had to know it, had to understand it. And I do. I really do._

She sorted the pieces delicately, probing. Where was the next piece?Her phone buzzed again, stopped, buzzed insistently again. She did not look at it this time.

_So what is it I'm doing with him if he's not just a pleasant diversion, if he's not a disposable commodity? Jinx was wrong about a lot of things, but she's right about this. I can hurt him if I'm not careful. He's strong, so strong, but this place, this place where his life and my life meet, this is the one place where he's weak._

The puzzle was almost complete, and the shadows in this abandoned little park were getting longer and longer. Her phone had stopped buzzing some time ago, but as lost in thought as she was, she didn't notice.

_Wish I'd brought that coat. This bench is cold.... Now comes the time that I have to ask myself that great, big question: how do I feel about him? _She felt two warring parts of herself emerge. One recoiled from anything so personal, anything that might allow her to become involved with another and thereby hurt. The other thought of Marshall with longing and joy, reached out greedy hands for the happiness and comfort he made her feel. She put her head down on her hands, wished desperately for clarity, pressed the heels of her hands into her eyelids.

Suddenly she saw the black-silver lightning behind her eyes and heard again that deep broken-bell voice filling her ears. _"Child, I'm assuming there's some good reason you're sitting on your ass out here in the freezing cold with no coat on."_

Mary raised her head and looked around her. Perched on a swing not three feet away was a large black bird, studying her with keen interest.

Hesitantly, she nodded. _Yeah. I'm...confused, I guess, and I had to get away from things to try to figure out what to do about it._

The raven fluttered it wings open, but remained on its perch. "_Why do you question this? You already know the joy of your soul, do you not?"_

Mary pondered that term, turned it over and over in her mind, "The joy of my soul," she murmured.

"_Indeed. Does he not bring you comfort?"_

Realizing that the raven was expecting a reply, Mary thought, "_Yes. He does. Great comfort."_

"_Is he not a true friend? Does he not give you understanding and companionship?"_

_I could not ask for one truer. He stands beside me when all the world falls away or turns its back in despair or disgust...._

"_Is he not a good man? Is he not honorable, brave?"_

_He is...the best man I know. He cares for others, he defends those who cannot help themselves, he pursues evil, even when it means harm will come to himself. He does not fear to do the right thing._

"_Does he not love you?"_

_I don't know..._

"_Do not lie. You cannot lie to me, and you should not lie to yourself. Not any longer."_

_Yes. He... loves me. Maybe.... more.... than anybody ever has._

The voice of the raven grew subtle, sly, just a little. _"Does he not satisfy you as a lover?"_

Mary felt the first smile she'd had since she'd heard Jinx come home stretch her mouth. It felt strange, somehow, like a motion she'd forgotten she could make.

"_Then, Mary Shannon, do you not know what it sounds very much to me like?"_

A part of Mary wanted to turn away from the voice, from the word, from the whole situation, and it whimpered a little in fear. The raven was having none of it.

"_You cannot remain so afraid, not for always, child. That which does not grow, dies. I know something of this... You were not born for fear, Mary. You were born to seize happiness with two strong hands and cling to it through all the storms of life. Now is that time. Say it to yourself. What is it you feel for him, for this Marshall, for your lover, for your partner, for your friend?"_

_I...love him. _The first time she thought it, it seemed that something inside her twisted, broke, screamed, and she had the oddest vision of two versions of herself, a black-clad warrior-Mary standing over the other, triumphantly driving a black-shafted spear through the heart of a cowering, fearful shadow of herself. All the pieces of the puzzle clicked into place, and she whispered it aloud. "I love him."

The raven on the swing looked at her with shiny satisfied eyes and exploded into the darkening sky in a flurry of black feathers. She watched it go, bringing one cold hand up to touch the silver torc around her neck.

---

Marshall had finished the last of his plans about four and, with a deep breath, picked up the phone to call Mary. It had rung several times and gone to voice mail. Frowning, he'd left a message and waited. When about fifteen minutes had elapsed and she hadn't called back, he'd tried again only to have the same thing happen again.

_She always has her phone, same as me. Even when she sleeps, she wakes up for that phone. And we never turn off the ringers. Not in our line of work. What's going on here?_

He called her house in a last-ditch effort to soothe the rising worry inside him, and much to his surprise, got Brandi.

"Hi, Marshall. I guess you're probably looking for Mary. She's not here, you know."

"Do you happen to know where she is?"

"No. I guess I just thought she was with you. She and Mom had this _huge_ fight and she went out in the backyard. I heard the whole thing from my bedroom where I went when Jinx and I got back this afternoon. Jinx was spoiling for a fight, and I _so_ did not want to be in the middle of that. Anyway, next thing any of us know, Mary is peeling away from the curb in the Probe, no coat or anything. She didn't even come back in the house first! I guess we just assumed she was headed over to your place. You haven't seen her? 'Cause she always goes there...."

Marshall's hand tightened around his phone, and he was already grabbing his jacket and his keys, turning off lights, and heading for his front door. "No, Brandi. She didn't come here. What time was it that you said she left?"

"Around 1:00. I guess she didn't go there because of the fight, then, probably..."

"Why would the fight keep her from coming here, Brandi? What did she and Jinx fight about?" Marshall was climbing into the truck and trying to keep his voice calm. Nobody had seen Mary for three hours and she'd left in a fury. He tried to fend off the slow curl of dread that was unwinding in the pit of his belly.

"Well, they were fighting about you, I think..."

Marshall cranked the engine, backed out of his driveway, and said, "Keep talking. I need to know everything you heard."

---

When Marshall got what details he could from Brandi, his dread had blossomed into something like near panic. He had driven to the office without seeing her Probe, had circled around to several other places she might possibly have fled with no better luck, and had tried to call her repeatedly only to be sent to voice mail each time. As he searched and called, he mentally cursed Jinx.

Brandi hadn't heard everything, but she'd heard enough. She'd heard Jinx berating Mary for sleeping with Marshall, had heard the accusation that Mary was just going to hurt him. Brandi's commentary on that subject had been the only amusing thing in the whole affair, "'Cause, like, I personally think it's only about time, really. I've been wondering what the hell you two were _waiting_ on, but you know Jinx..."

Now, Marshall was just driving, going everywhere he could think of where Mary might run away to.

_She's good and gone this time. Jinx spooked her, forced her to look at things before she was ready for them, and now she's in full flight. What the hell possessed her to interfere? Especially in such a harsh way? I'll be lucky now if Mary will consent to stay in the same room with me, much less...much less...._

He sighed deeply, his hand flexing in frustration on the steering wheel as he made another turn down another street, his plans for the evening and their future together unraveling before his eyes.

---

He almost missed her Probe in the late evening light, its purple color blending oddly well with the dusky sunset's purples and reds. He'd been searching for an hour to no avail. A million scenarios had run through his mind starting with her simply being angry or scared and ignoring everyone to her being hurt, captured, or held hostage. He didn't take them any further than that. In their line of work, so many things could happen that others didn't have to worry about. He'd given up on calling her; it was an exercise in futility. He was about to call Stan and start calling in favors with ABQ PD when he saw the familiar shape of her car and her own lonely silhouette against the desert skyline.

_Thank God. At least she's okay. She may not want to see me, may not talk to me, may push me away harder than she ever did before, but at least I found her and she's okay._

He pulled the truck into the space next to hers and killed the engine, sitting and studying her, as if he could, from this distance discern what sort of Mary he would find when he crossed the shabby little park to where she sat among the concrete picnic tables. She did not turn. Her gaze remained steadily forward, and he could see nothing in the park to capture her attention so thoroughly as he scanned it. He saw her shiver a little with the cold, and he sighed, her need breaking his own reverie as he opened the door and climbed out of his truck toward what he feared would be the beginning of their end.

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**Hope to have another post up soon. I'm working on it now. As always, all I ask is that you... R&R.**

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	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: All things must finish sooner or later, even Masks....

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Life has taught us that love does not consist in gazing at each other but in looking outward together in the same direction.

~Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, Wind, Sand and Stars, 1939, translated from French by Lewis Galantière

* * *

Mary was cold. The daylight was almost gone, the last colors of it painting the sky, and she needed to leave, needed to pick up her phone and check in at the very least. She knew it, but she couldn't seem to make herself get up from the bench, couldn't make her hand reach out for the BlackBerry. Her mind and her heart needed time to turn this new thing over, to examine it from all sides, to make sure it really fit, that she really understood it. She couldn't stand the idea of going home to more of Jinx's accusations, and she didn't know what she'd say yet to Marshall. Therefore, she'd stayed despite the darkness and the dropping temperatures. She hugged her arms around herself, hunching slightly to maintain her body heat as she continued to think.

_I'm going to have to talk to him about this at some point. But...how do I do that? I mean...words are not my strong point. Actions, actions I have lots of. I wish there were some way I could just "action" it and he'd understand me. I can't have the big stupid dramatic, "So how do you feel about me?" conversation, dammit. I don't know how, and...and...what if I screw it up? _She sighed, eyes slipping over to the now-empty swing where the raven had sat not so long ago. _Don't suppose you have any miraculous advice left up your feathery sleeve do you?_

Despite the absence of a physical avatar, the sonorous voice filled her again as well as a distinct feeling of amusement, _"Don't waste your chances. That's the best advice I know to give, child."_

"What the hell kind of advice is that?" she mumbled, and then jumped, startled, hands flying for a gun that was not currently there as warmth draped itself around her cold body.

---

"Jesus, Marshall, you scared me!" She tried to calm her breathing and her heart rate, but both were still elevated from the shock he'd given her. She watched him slide his long legs under the top of the picnic table and settle himself beside her. His eyes were slightly amused, but she could see the concern just under that surface.

"Then I guess we're probably even, then," he said quietly. His lips curved briefly with it, but the little smile disappeared quickly. She looked away from him, back out at the vista in front of her, unable to meet his eyes, and he turned to stare straight ahead with her, out into the darkening desert. The moon was beginning to rise, and the edge of it was a shimmering crescent on the far horizon. They sat in silence for a time, watched it pull itself up from the edge of the world to glow softly. The world was silver, black, and deepest blue. A few early stars appeared.

Mary wanted desperately to break the silence between them, but the longer it went on, the less she knew how. She'd ignored his calls, and he'd come and found her anyway. Was he angry? He was never angry, but he wasn't saying anything.... Now there was all this to tell him somehow, all this newness of emotion that she was feeling. She watched him out of the corner of her eye, pulled the jacket around her more securely, enveloped in the warmth of it and the smell of him. _What now? What now? What now? _

Marshall kept his eye on the moon. It was cold, and even though he was wearing an old sweatshirt, he felt it without his coat. More than the physical cold, though, he felt the silence between the two of them like a thick icy curtain. He thought back to the last time they'd sat in the moonlight together, not so long ago, to that garden bench where he'd kissed her, not quite believing she was real, not believing at all she would ever really be his.

_And how right I was. Made of moonlight and mist. Now the heat of day, of reality has come and burned all the illusion away, I guess. Such a shame, especially with all this moonlight still here on the ground. That was in a garden, though, and this is a desert. I guess some things just can't survive here. Maybe I was a fool to believe otherwise, to think there was a place in this world for magic or love._

Something silver caught his eye, and it seemed for a minute he saw a tall figure shrouded in silvery-white light walking across the sand toward them. Marshall realized that everything was completely silent and still as the figure on the sands came closer. The small scrap of paper that had been tumbling across the ground in front of the table had frozen in place. The leaves caught with it in the tiny whirlwind were also motionless, sculpture-like. Marshall whispered to Mary, "Are you seeing this?" but when he turned to look at her, he realized that she, too, was frozen in place.

He quickly looked back toward the approaching figure only to find that it now was calmly sitting at the table across from him, gazing at him with patient amusement from avian eyes rimmed with gold.

---

_You did this? Is she okay?_

"_You know the answer to the first question already. Of course it was I who stopped time. I needed a moment to speak with you privately. As for the second, I would no more hurt her than pull those stars down and put them in a box in my pocket where no one else could see them."_

_Could you...you could do that?_

Silky laughter like the rushing of quick river waters over smooth stones. _ "Of course. But what would be the point? That is not their purpose, and a joy shared is a joy multiplied. Have you not always found it so?"_

Marshall took a deep breath_. _He had. That, of course, was why he loved to share his trivia and hobbies, odd as he knew Mary found so many of them, with her. They felt better, were more fun when he saw them anew through her eyes....

"_I am here to tell you that you must not give up."_

_You stopped TIME to give me a pep talk? _

More laughter._ "You say that like it was something difficult to do. And perhaps not the whole world has stopped.... In any case, you must use all the traits we share to persevere."_

_Ah. I see. And those would be?_

"_Wisdom. Knowledge of many things. Diplomacy. And yes, possibly even a little magic, child." _One slender long-fingered hand, wide golden cuffs glinting dully, pointed toward the moon where it hung in the sky. "_That alone is a powerful ally to you if you will but use it. It has been for all lovers for many ages of man."_

_But she isn't like most other women...._

"_And do you not give thanks for that each morning, each night?"_

_Yeah, but I don't know how she feels about me, and right now I'm afraid she is done with me...with us...with this for all time...._

"_Then can you think of a better time or place than right here and now to settle those fears? I give you this night, this moon, this place of peace and privacy. The rest is up to you. Don't waste it."_

And the tall birdheaded god began to fade away until there was only a bright patch of moonlight where he had once sat. Marshall shook his head slightly and became aware of Mary stirring beside him. The breeze picked up. Marshall took a deep breath and turned toward the woman at his side. She was sitting hunched into his coat and miserable-looking. She did not seem to notice that the world, or at least their little corner of it, had paused briefly.

_Don't waste it, huh? Okay. This is me, not wasting...._

"Mare," he said softly, "why did you run away this afternoon?" He kept looking out over the moonlit landscape.

She jumped as though he'd stuck her with a pin. "Why does it matter?"

"Because you stopped answering your phone. Because I was scared. Because...I talked to Brandi."

"Ah. I see." _And did she tell you that my mom thinks I'm fun-fucking you? That I'm going to tear your heart out of your chest and leave you for dead somewhere?_

"I understand you and Jinx got into it this afternoon...."

"We did, yes." _Then you got the whole sordid tale. Fandamntastic. Then how am I supposed to repair this? _She sighed and got up, unable to sit there any longer. She paced away from the table and over to the swing where the raven had sat earlier. She sat down on the pliable plastic seat, wrapped her hands around the chain, let her feet scuff the worn patch of dirt under it gently.

She heard Marshall come up behind her, felt the warmth of his hands close over the chains just above hers, not quite holding her hands, but only just touching. She wished, briefly, furiously, that he had wrapped his hands over hers instead.

"Don't do this. Don't shut me out now. Please talk to me."

"Marshall, I...don't know what to say." _Help me. Please help me. I don't know how to fix this. _

He shifted behind her, and she sensed the frustration coming from him. "Well, how about we start with whether you want me to be here, then. Because I'm getting the feeling that you really don't right now, Mare..."

She was silent another moment, struggling with the words that never came to her easily, and heard him sigh deeply. The words of the Morrigan raven came back to her suddenly, _made to seize happiness with two strong hands and cling to it, _ and she brought her hands up to clutch at his just as he was letting go of the chains of the swing. She caught his fingers with her own and gripped him tightly. "Marshall. Don't." And then the word that was hardest for her, "Please."

For a moment, his hands were still in her own. Then they squeezed back. "I'm freezing, Mare. If we're going to have this conversation, let's get off the playground at least, okay?" He gently tugged her hand, and they headed across the parking lot to his truck.

---

Marshall got a couple of blankets that he kept for emergencies and shook them out. They climbed into the bed of his truck and bundled the heavy fabric around themselves. Mary gave Marshall his coat back and sat with her back pressed against his chest, her head against his shoulder. With the blankets and their shared body heat, they were soon more comfortable. The moon shone down on them, gloriously bright and full.

"So..." Marshall's voice was calm, patient.

"So. So you know I suck when it comes to words, Marshall. So why don't you try asking me some questions, and I'll try answering them, and we'll see if we can manage not to turn this into a freaking trainwreck, okay?"

He smiled, and the arms he'd instinctively draped around her waist squeezed gently, encouragingly. "Okay. I'd like to avoid all wrecks of all kinds if possible."

"Double ditto, slick.. Fire when ready." She shifted uneasily against him, unsure of what he would ask or how she'd be able to answer.

"Why did you run off this afternoon?"

She took a deep breath, let it out on a frustrated sigh. "Because...because Jinx made me so damn mad. She came through the door Full of accusations, of me not being home enough, the usual, and then out of just nowhere, she lays into me about you. She knows I'm sleeping with you, what is it I'm doing with you, do I really think she's so stupid she doesn't know, it went on and on and on...." She threw up her hands in irritation.

Marshall's voice was neutral as he spoke. "What'd you say to her?" This was the information Brandi hadn't been able to give him. Jinx had been yelling, easy to hear; Mary had not.

"I told her that it was really none of her business what we were doing, although I believe I phrased it a lot less nicely than that. Her comeback was that she knew what we were doing, or rather that she knew what I was doing, anyway, and that that was the main problem."

Careful, careful, the lack of inflection in the voice.... "And what is it that you're doing, according to Jinx, anyway?"

"I'm using you as my personal pleasure toy. Disposable-dating. Slaking my savage lusts with your body. Fun-fucking. Pick the festive term you like best." The humor in her voice was bitter, bitter.

"I see." He waited four agonizing heartbeats, hardly drawing breath. "So what did you tell her we are?"

"I didn't tell her we're anything, actually. I stormed out and headed out here so mad I couldn't even see straight. It's not her business if I'm _paying_ you to do me, Marshall. There are lines she doesn't need to cross, dammit."

His disappointment swamped him like storm waves over a tiny boat at sea. He tried to keep his tone level. "Oh.... Definitely. Your private life is...yours." He knew he hadn't succeeded, but he felt as though he'd been kicked hard directly in the middle of the chest. _Well, now you have your answer. Whatever we are, it's not worth the defending to her.... _His hands slid off her slowly. "Well, you know what? It's really, really cold out here, and even with these blankets, I think it would be better if I got you back to your house..." _And it's time to let that beautiful dream I had built up for myself go. I know what Thoth said, but in the face of such overwhelming evidence, I really think that there is no more magic to be had. I have no more diplomacy in me, and the moonlight is really starting to wear pretty thin...._

Mary heard the change in his voice, felt his withdrawal from her, and she felt panic knife at her sharply. _Hell, I screwed up. Where did I screw up? _She reviewed the conversation quickly, and suddenly understood. She scrambled up to her her knees and turned around to face him.

"No, Marshall. Don't do that. Don't...." She reached for him, laid one hand on the side of his face.

He looked at her with a soft smile, but she could see the hurt behind it, had known him too long not to see it there behind the facade of normalcy he was trying to desperately to put on for her. He took her hand in his, squeezed it gently, let it go.

"It's okay, Mare." He brought his hand up to brush away the strands of her hair that the wind had blown across her cheek, across her mouth. "I always knew that this was a possibility, and I'm a big boy, remember? I went into this...relationship...with my eyes wide open. You like things to be physical, easy, no-strings. I understand. Remember what I told you that first night. This is whatever you want it to be, whatever you can let it be. No more. I would never ask for something you didn't want to or weren't able to give me." And his heart was there in his eyes, bleeding, fading, dying.

_Now, dammit. Now. You can't just let him suffer. He's in pain. You wouldn't let him endure physical pain for you, but you're leaving him in emotional pain. Fix it. You'd take a bullet for him, right? Well, now, Mary Shannon, now is that time!_

She brought her hand up to find his again, and she grasped his hard. "Marshall...what if..." She fumbled for words desperately. "What if I wanted _more_, then? Would that be okay, too?" She looked into his eyes, hoping fervently that he understood her. His eyes locked with hers, and his brow furrowed for a moment.

"What are you saying? I am not sure I understand. Because it almost sounded just then like..."

"Like what, Marshall?"

"Like...you were saying that you want a real relationship...." His tone was soft, wary, refusing to be hopeful.

"And if I was?"

"Don't do this. Please. I can't play games..." His voice was a whisper and he was looking at her as if she were an angel or a destroyer, possibly both somehow together.

"You idiot," she said softly, sliding her hands onto his shoulders. "Listen. I'm trying to tell you something."

"So tell me, then." The tiniest smile passed over his lips, and he stared at her as if she were the last hope of salvation to be seen. Mary could feel him shaking very slightly under her hands.

"After I ran away today, I started thinking. About what Jinx said. About how I was going to hurt you because of the way I use men and get rid of them. About how you are so good to me and for me and about how much you....you...."

Marshall's hands found her waist. "About how much I....?" he gently prompted when her voice failed her.

"Love me." _There. I said it. It's out in the open. Torpedoes away. Let's see if that one blows up before I launch the really deadly one...._

He drew her forward against him, pulled her down into his arms so that he embraced her firmly. He kept his voice soft in her ear. "Yes, of course. For a very long time now, Mare. But I don't think this is what you were going to tell me." That soft tremble still rippled through him, like the tremors right before a major quake.

She drew in a breath, could smell the clean scent of him, soap and shampoo and fabric softener and plain Marshall. She burrowed her face into his neck briefly and just took strength from his arms around her, from hearing at last, out loud, confirmation of what she had known in her heart for so long.

"Please, Mary." He whispered. "What else did you have to tell me?" _Please say it. Please...please...._

She pulled back enough to look into his eyes. "As I thought about all those things, I realized something." She laid a gentle hand on his cheek. "You are everything Jinx said you are. You are a good man, you are my best friend, and you do care for me as nobody else ever has. She was right about that, Marshall, so right."

Marshall blinked, felt fear building. _No. This can't be her saying goodbye. I won't let her. I'll take her any way I can get her....Promise her whatever I have to...._

"But she was wrong about what I felt for you. You're not disposable to me, Marshall. In a world where everything else I have is temporary, broken, or fading away, where even the names of most of the people I know are lies, you are the one real thing I have. You let me be just who I am, even when that person isn't very nice most of the time. You make me take off all the masks, even when it hurts to do it, and you love the face underneath and tell me it's beautiful. Marshall. I...I...love you."

And it seemed to him as if moonlight had been crafted just for this moment, just to frame her perfectly so she glowed like a goddess as she knelt there in front of him. _And she'll kill me if I say that..._ The thought randomly floated through his mind, and he smiled with it as he pulled her forward into his arms, joy filling him like a thousand shimmering stars in the sky, and he pressed his mouth to hers with a little sound of happiness.

---

Marshall was holding her in his arms. They were wrapped tightly in the blankets and staring up at the sparkling sky. Mary's head rested on his shoulder. They had been silent for some time now, content, all the things they had needed to say for so long said at last.

Mary recalled something suddenly and stirred, breaking the silence. "Guess I ruined whatever you had set up for tonight's big finale, huh?" She rolled to look up at him and grinned a little, eyes seeking his. "Sorry about that." The smile faded and her voice was sincere. They both knew she wasn't apologizing about having interfered with his plans.

He reached out and pushed her hair back behind her ear. "It's okay. You know what they say about the best-laid plans of mice and men..." He thought of the restaurant, the candlelight, the romantic setting he had planned to provide for the evening. He thought about how what he'd wanted to tell her, about how scared he'd been about what he'd hoped to hear in return, about what he'd ultimately planned to end the evening if all went well, and he sat up.

"Actually, the location for what I had planned wasn't as important as the last thing that I intended to have you do."

Mary sat up, scooted to sit beside him leaning against the wall of the truck bed, and she looked at him with arch interest. "Oh, really? Something I could do anywhere. Wonder what that could be?" She grinned at him, placing a hand on his knee under the blankets.

His hand covered hers and he laced his fingers with hers to capture the wayward hand before it began to distract him. "Well, no, actually, as much...um...fun...as that always is...that actually wasn't what this was about."

She pouted very briefly and settled back again. She looked up at him. "What then? What was the last thing you were going to order me to do? What last great command were you going to give before this bet ran out?"

He smiled softly. "It's actually the only command I ever intended to give from the very beginning, Mare. This was what I first envisioned from the very moment you started pressing me about this bet. Of course I didn't picture it happening in the back of a truck in the middle of a run-down public park, but..."

"Marshall," she said, impatience lacing her tone, "you're not making sense. What is what you've been planning from the very beginning, idiot? You left out a piece along the way."

He blinked. "So I did." He reached down into his coat pocket and pulled out a small black jeweler's box. He cupped it in his hand at his side beneath the blankets and said, "Okay. Mary Shannon. Here is your final command. Are you ready for it?"

She rolled her eyes and grinned. "Theatrical, too, aren't you? Yeah, yeah. Just tell me what it is you want."

With his heart racing and a crooked little smile of his own, he brought his hand out from under the covers. "Close your eyes."

She looked at him with slight mistrust.

"Mare...."

"Okay, okay." And she did it.

"Hold out your hand."

"Are you sure this doesn't have anything to do with sex?"

"_Mare..._."

"Right. Shutting up now." And her hand reluctantly rose, palm up. He could see her fighting to keep a smile off her face. She looked amused but relaxed.

He gently placed the little box holding his future in her hand. The second it made contact with her palm, her fingers contracted around it convulsively, tracing the dimensions of it, the surface texture and shape of it, and her eyes flew open to look down. Her entire body tensed, all traces of humor suddenly gone.

"Marshall," she murmured, and her voice broke. She continued to stare at the tiny container as though it might suddenly detonate in her hand.

He had expected this. "During this week, I've made you do a lot of things you wouldn't normally do. I made you pay for coffees and work with Eleanor in the office. I forced you to go to that restaurant across town that you swore you'd never eat at. I made you spend time with the Donnelly kids Tuesday afternoon coloring, made you have lunch with that inspector downstairs who's new in town, made you go to that foreign film festival with me downtown. Do you know why I did all that stuff?"

Her eyes did not leave the box. She shook her head. Her breath was coming quickly.

"Because I wanted you to see that just because you think you know what something is or believe you can't do something or won't like it isn't any reason to turn against it. Was any of the stuff I asked you to do this week bad for you? Did any of it hurt you or cause you pain?"

Mary couldn't take her eyes off that box, that box, that box and what she _knew_ was inside of it....

"Trust me," he reached out his hand and covered her own and the box with it, drawing them both down, holding it between their palms. "Just trust me. Okay? Listen to what I'm asking you. Did it?"

Now that the hypnotic object was removed, the gearing of her brain came unstuck and she considered his question as best she could, trying very hard to press down the panic that was still fluttering wildly around the edges. _I trust him. I trust him. I trust him. No. Nothing this week was bad...._ She had enjoyed many of the new experiences. The restaurant she'd thought she'd hate had been quite nice, actually.

Coloring with the Donnelly kids, although she'd rather be skinned alive than admit it, had been so funny and so stress-relieving. She had a folded-up picture of Cookie Monster in the cupholder of the Probe from that day, her own creation, proudly given to her by 5-year-old Kate Donnelly who had told her she was welcome any time.

Even spending time with people she was sure annoyed her like Eleanor and the new inspector downstairs hadn't been all bad. Eleanor was still a denizen from the lower circles of hell, but Mary now perhaps could respect that. And they'd had such a good laugh over Marshall's behavior that day. It had felt odd but pleasant to talk to a woman about things. It was very different from talking to Marshall but not in a bad way. Eleanor had, surprisingly, understood some things quite without being told that Marshall never seemed to grasp even after repeated explanations. They weren't quite friends, but at least Mary didn't have to feel as if she had an enemy in the office anymore.

So....he was right. At least so far. But...that box in their joined hands.....

He had been carefully watching her expression in the moonlight, watching her remember the week. He watched the memories flicker past, saw the corners of her mouth turn up once or twice, wished she would speak.

She looked up at him, eyes a little lost. He saw that confusion.

"Do you trust me, Mare?"

She frowned, nodded her head, and paradoxically tightened her grip on the box. He laughed softly.

"How much?"

_More than anybody else there is. _She looked down, sighed, and forced her hand open. He removed his hand from the top of hers and there again the little container sat on her palm.

"Open the box."

_Because he would never ask me to do anything that wasn't good for me. Because he loves me and I love him. Because I don't have to be afraid. Because I don't have to be afraid....._

She opened the box to reveal a very simple ring, lovely, somehow old-fashioned. As the diamond at the heart of it caught the moonlight, that thing inside her that had been fluttering in panic and fear simply stilled. _This? This is what I was so afraid of? But I don't have to be afraid of this. This...this belongs... to me, doesn't it?_

And she looked up at his face, that familiar, angular face and she smiled. He breathed a huge sigh of relief, and she realized suddenly how tense he'd been. His hands were shaking slightly as he reached down to remove the ring from the box.

"Like I said, there was supposed to be candlelight and flowers. We were supposed to be warm and at the very least indoors for this. But...maybe this is better. I'm done, as of this moment, giving you orders. But I do have one last request." He gently took her hand in his, set the box aside.

"Mary Shannon, will you marry me?"

It seemed to her that everything around them held a collective breath. The winds were calm, the stars seemed to pause in their twinkling, even the moonlight seemed somehow still as she looked at this man she loved and considered.

"Yes, Marshall. Yes, I will."

He slipped the ring on her finger, and they stared down at it for a moment. He softly traced over it with his thumb as if he needed to confirm physically that it wasn't an illusion, some trick of the light. Then he looked up, and he kissed her.

Epilogue:

The day of their marriage was a day of impossible stress for them both. It had not been an easy road getting here during the past year. Their usual personalities had not dissolved with the slipping of that ring on her finger, and it had taken considerable work on both their parts to make things work. They had, as they always did, found their own path, and despite the numerous bumps and bruises, sometimes since Mary was involved literal ones, they were stronger together now than perhaps ever before.

Mary sat wrapped in a bathrobe in the room of the small church where she was getting dressed and she stared into the reflection in the mirror, with her head in her hands, wondering for the hundredth time since the day had finally arrived if she had enough strength to do this. It wasn't that she didn't want Marshall. It wasn't that she didn't want to spend the rest of their lives together. It was just this place, the trappings of this ceremony, that horribly poofy dress that hung behind her like a mocking specter of all the things that had gone so wrong in the past that seemed so threatening suddenly.

There was a brief tap on the door, and Mary glanced over her shoulder. "Come in," she called out uncertainly, wondering if Brandi or Jinx had gotten up enough courage to come back after the last time she'd thrown them out when they'd gotten into a squabble over trying to get her hair pinned up. It was now a horrible mess thanks to their mutual assistance. She knew they'd only been trying to "help," but she'd very nearly gone and gotten her clutch piece out and shot them.....

The door cracked open just enough to permit someone's head to slip in, and suddenly, she saw peering around the corner the last person in the world she was expecting: Max Henderson.

"Max!" She cried. "You came!" She and Marshall had decided to send him an invitation, but they had not heard from him, and they had both decided that he probably wasn't going to show up.

"Of course. How could I resist?" He stepped the rest of the way into the room, and once again, Mary was struck by the sheer size of the man. He smiled and looked at her. "Ah, Mary Shannon on her wedding day! Always so lovely, the bride."

Mary gave him a rueful smile, gestured vaguely to the mass of out-of-control hair atop her head. "Thanks, Max, but maybe not this bride."

Max ran a practiced eye over her and said, "Ah yes. The last-minute emergency. I am familiar with this, of course. All theater has it, always."

She arched her brows at that. "All...theater?"

"Yes. For what you are about to do is drama of a type. You and he, you are already bonded in all the ways that are most important to you, are you not? What you go to say today in front of those people, it is not anything you have not already said to each other alone. That which you promise publicly, you have already vowed privately, yes? What you go to do now, this is... a theater of declaration, a public performance so all the world knows. That is what I have always thought of a marriage as, anyway."

She mulled that over. Somehow, put into those terms, what she was facing was somehow no longer such a threat, no longer something to fear or dread.

"Just a costume show, huh?"

Max smiled. "Exactly, Mary. Exactly." He turned to look at her dress where it hung rather forlornly on its hanger, and she saw him frown just a little as he ran a fingertip lightly down the sleeve. "But if you would permit me..." And he stepped back to the door, opened it and disappeared into the hallway for a moment.

He came back inside the small room carrying a large garment bag. He pushed the door closed and he held the bag out to her. "I have taken a rather enormous liberty, Mary Shannon. In fact, it borders on the unpardonable, I suspect."

Mary's heart was pounding. She stood up and took the bag from him, hung it on a hook and pulled the zipper open. Inside, what she saw made her sigh.

She'd looked for a wedding dress only because she'd known that she had to have one, that one was required. Of all the hated tasks the wedding had brought her, the quest to gown herself was the one she'd been forced to do alone. Marshall had helped her wade through caterers, flowers, invitations, and his help had saved many a bright-eyed consultant from an early demise or a sudden and unexpected trip to the emergency room. He had taken care of the arrangements for the location entirely, and she was infinitely grateful once again that his nature ran to intricate details and plans.

The dress, though, she knew he could not see. She had tried to summon up some shred of enthusiasm for it, but she hated or was bored by every one she saw. Jinx and Brandi and even Eleanor had oohed and aahed over bridal magazines, had dragged her to shop after shop, had switched the TV to scary reality shows about women in bridal boutiques spending tens of thousands of dollars on dresses until Mary had wanted very much to scream at them all that she was getting married in her black jacket and jeans. The whole concept of super-bright-whiteness, satin, tulle, lace, and bows on the ass had given her nightmares in which she was wrapped up tightly like a living mummy by skinny women in Chanel suits who chattered incessantly like insane doves at her about how what a lovely bride she made. To stop the process so she could have some peace, one day she'd just randomly picked one of the dresses she hated least and purchased it.

What she saw inside Max's bag was so much more than a compromise or a necessity. It was, as everything he made was, something brought forth from another place and made corporeal here by the means that only he knew. _Now, if any of those damn boutiques had had anything like this in them...._ But she knew that this was something only Max could do.

"This is one of yours?"

He nodded, beaming. "It is my wedding present for you, Mary Shannon, if I have not been too bold in my offering."

Her smile was radiant and she stepped forward to place a kiss on his cheek. "Oh no, Max. Oh no. It's...it's..." She didn't have words.

He squeezed her shoulders softly. "Then let us get you ready. It is something of a custom for the bride to be a bit late, but I would hate for your groom to think you weren't coming at all!" He laughed and they began to get Mary into the gown. It fit perfectly, of course, even without ever having been fitted or tailored to her once. She did not even wonder at it.

---

Marshall was nervous. He was pacing. He had had thoughts, fleetingly, of sneaking out and disabling the Probe to prevent her from escaping using that route. Nothing lasting, just some little disconnection, or some critical part pocketed.... He laughed and took another turn around the small area where he waited for the word that she was ready to go. Stan watched him prowl back and forth.

"You know what? After awhile, even stone does wear out. Relax, Marshall. Eleanor is watching the front. She'll call if she sees anything...newsworthy."

Marshall looked up at Stan and saw the wry grin. "That transparent, am I?"

"Let's just say there's a bit of a pool going as to whether or not this event goes off without handcuffs, a fistfight, some gunfire, or a runaway bride."

Marshall laughed. _Predictable. Cops are predictable. _"What option have you got your money on?"

Stan held out his hands. "Me? Not a betting man. Not today. Not about you two. You're going to make it."

Marshall grabbed one of Stan's hands in a firm grip, shook it. "Thanks, Stan. Really. I appreciate this. You. All you did to make sure we could stay together, still be partners. There hasn't been a minute, it seems, when I could tell you that, but I wanted you to know it. It means the world to both of us, and we both know how hard you had to fight to make it happen. She might not ever say it, but she's grateful, too. We owe you."

Stan returned Marshall's grip, waved away the thanks. "Couldn't have my best Marshals broken up, could I? You don't owe me. Just be happy, okay?"

The organ began to play, and Marshall tensed. Apparently, she hadn't run.... They turned and walked toward the sanctuary door.

---

Mary got ready to come down the aisle on her own. There was nobody to give her away and nobody she wanted to ask for that job. _I'm giving myself away. That's appropriate. I don't need anybody else's permission or support for this. This is between me and him, anyway._

She rolled her shoulders, got ready to step around the corner to take that first step, and told herself again, _Just a pageant, just a play for everybody else. Nothing to this. Remember what Max said. Marshall and I have already said all the important stuff. This is all just for show, just for the others. _

Finally in the archway, she looked down the narrow passage at him and saw Marshall's eyes for the first time that day, saw him _see _her. She was suddenly so very glad she'd agreed to this, to the whole church and minister and flowers, poofy dress and fancy tux, rice-in-the-hair and cake-at-the-end of it. All those damn months of Jinx and Brandi and endless annoying women in shops with vaguely pretentious or precious names had been worth it for this, for _this_, for him, there, looking at her like that. She stepped forward, conscious of nothing now but him, and the thought flitted across her consciousness, _Maybe there is more to this than just a costume drama, after all...._

_---_

Her dress was not she'd described to him when she'd told him of the frustrating experience of shopping for it, not what he'd expected, and she took his breath away. _She always does that, though._ Today, seeing her in a gown that was cut off one shoulder and that glowed like softest moonlight somehow gathered in the hand and fashioned into fabric, perfectly cut to her shape, simple and elegant as were all the best of things, she was beyond all his many words. Its only embellishment was a faint tone-on-tone woven pattern along the trailing hem, a pattern of birds in joyous flight. Her hair was gathered up and away from her face, again, something simple, artless, graceful, but so perfect for his Mary that he could not imagine why anyone would ever want something more elaborate. The only jewelery she wore was the heavy silver torc around her neck, and somehow it looked as though it and this gown had been made to go together.

And best of all, she was smiling. She didn't look nervous or scared. His own heart wanted to shout in relief at that smile, at what that meant to him, to them, for this day, for the rest of their life together. From the moment she'd rounded that corner and looked at him, her lips had curved, her golden eyes had danced, and he had seen true happiness in her as she had walked toward him. There was no fear in her proud step as she came to him, as she slipped her hand into his, as she repeated the words that bound them together, man and wife at last.

---

They did not get to take a long honeymoon immediately. Neither of them were willing to leave their witnesses that long since both had individuals in sensitive situations at the present, despite the urgings of Stan and Eleanor. They decided to save the time and use it later on. Stan grumblingly agreed.

They were opening the presents they'd received for their wedding together sitting in the floor of what had been Marshall's and was now their house. Mary lifted an elaborate and heavy box with no tag on it.

"Do you know who this is from?" She turned it over gently, inspecting it carefully.

Marshall put down the gift he'd just unwrapped and scooted over to where she was. He took it in his own hands, frowning in puzzlement. "No... I remember that one. I remember seeing it on the table at the reception, but I never saw anybody near it."

"Hmm." She ran a hand along the silver ribbon. "Do you think we need to worry about it?"

"It should be fine. Everything that came in was checked, you know." The justifiable paranoia of law enforcement extended to all areas of their lives, especially when they gathered in large numbers....

She tore the top off the box and looked inside. He peered in after her. They sat, dumbfounded, and then they drew out the two objects inside. Marshall held in his hands a fragile-looking whitish carving of a feather. Hieroglyphs ran up the back of it. Mary withdrew a small golden bowl covered with elaborate carvings. They looked at each other and then back at the items they held.

"Mare," breathed Marshall, "this thing is...this thing is...alabaster and..._old_..."

"What the hell is it?"

"It looks to me like a representation of the Egyptian idea of Ma'at, or harmony, order, and truth. Thoth used it to weigh the hearts of the dead against. If it is, it's the fundamental guiding principal of their culture, everything they believed held the world together, all they thought was good and right." He ran his finger reverently along the edge of it.

"And this?" She held out the small golden bowl which sat comfortably on her cupped palms.

Marshall carefully sat aside the sculpture and took the bowl from her and turned it over in his hands. He studied the carvings. "It's a small version of a Celtic cauldron. I've seen bigger ones on display, but never one like this..."

Mary looked at it in fascination. "What is it for?"

Marshall glanced up at her. "The cauldron was the heart of the ancient Celtic home, maybe even the ancient Celtic culture. Every house had one. They used it for so many things related to daily life, carrying water, cooking, even bathing in the really big ones. In most houses, it was the most costly thing they owned because it was used so much and had to be made so well.... It was used in their magic and in their religion as well and there's all kinds of symbolism attached to it." He was still inspecting the carvings. There were flowing rivers, branching trees, figures who might have been deities...and finally, he stopped and tapped his finger on something right on the center portion of the bottom. "Ah. Thought I'd find her here, sooner or later."

"Find who?"

"Look."

Mary peered down at the section he indicated, and she saw a carving of a woman. She wore a long cloak and carried a spear. All around her were birds in flight. Despite the lack of detail on the carvings, Mary knew that figure, knew that hooked spear, felt a tingling clear through her....

"No...not really..."

Marshall looked up at her and grinned.

"So what are you saying, then, Marshall?"

"Well, there's no card, and these things are old, old, old. I'm thinking museum-quality old. We'll need to get them checked out, probably to be sure, but..."

"You can't be serious..."

"I guess everybody wanted to wish us well. They gave us what they felt like we'd need most to have a happy home."

She looked back down at the beautiful bowl and up to Marshall's face. She set the ancient cauldron down gently next to the alabaster feather and took his hand, pulled him to his feet. She kissed him softly.

"They didn't have to send a gift. They had already helped me get the only thing I really have to have."

Opening the rest of the presents could wait until later.

* * *

**And thus it finally, finally ends. I hope you have enjoyed it. R&R, please, particularly if you haven't yet.  
**

**For more information on the Celtic Cauldron, try this site: symboldictionaryDOTnet/?p=958. Convert the DOT back into the appropriate punctuation, of course.....**


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